#harry styles brits

[finelinevogue]

in this world, it’s just us

summary - you and harry attend the Brits, drink a little and love each other a lot

warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, pregnancy talk?!, tears of joy

word count: +4.3k

pairing: famous!reader x harry

“Y/N, babe? Jeff needs us to– Woah!”

Harry entered the bedroom where you were getting ready. You were surrounded by Harry’s hair and make-up team whilst you got dressed for the Brit Awards tonight.

You blushed a smile as Harry’s jaw dropped a little and put a hand over his heart, as if you’d just punctured him there.

“What?” You asked, pretending like you didn’t know you’d just given him a minor heart attack with how good you looked - because you did look amazing.

“You… Just wow, lovie.” He smiled.

“Wow to you too.” You replied, allowing him to come and give you a quick chaste kiss. He didn’t want to get told off for ruining your makeup yet, but later on in the evening there was going to be no stopping his flirtatious self all over you.

“Wow to you too.” You replied, allowing him to come and give you a quick chaste kiss. He didn’t want to get told off for ruining your makeup yet, but later on in the evening there was going to be no stopping his flirtatious self all over you.

“Y’going to the Brits like that, hun?” Bella, a make-up specialist, asked Harry as she pointed to his displayed abs.

“If m’wife lets me? Yeah.” Harry posed with his hands on his hips, making people whistle in admiration for him. Harry blushed and awkwardly laughed then, getting shy over the attention he was being given.

“Well, as much as I love your body I do love the suit as a complete look.” You explained.

“Y’love my body do you?” He raised his eyebrows and gave you a flirtatious look.

“Of course that’s all you took from what I said.” You rolled your eyes and shook your head playfully. “Now go get ready before Jeff tells you off.”

“Okay, okay! Couldn’t get enough of me this morning and now you’re sending me away like I’m an expired carton of milk.”

“What even..?” Harry Lambert laughed, standing in the doorway probably looking for Harry. People in the room started laughing too, but Harry was only looking at you to gauge your reaction. He didn’t care if he made a whole room of people laugh, because it was only your reaction that meant any value to him.

So when you chuckled, he couldn’t help but chuckle too because he had put that smile on your face and he’d be damned if he didn’t take a minute to soak up the sunshine radiating from you.

“Baby, you know I love you but we need to hurry up.” You calmed yourself from laughing too much.

“Okay. One more kiss, though?”

Of course you instantly nodded, bringing Harry in for a few more kisses than just the one. He repeatedly kissed you, until he knew that you’d got the memo that he loved you very much.

“Did I mention y’look beautiful?” He whispered against your lips and it made the people around you swoon over how perfectly he treated you. If only everyone had a Harry in their lives.

“Mhm.” You nodded, still in post-bliss from his kisses.

After a few more kisses and a stern shout from Harry Lambert, for Harry to come and finish getting ready, Harry was out of the room and you were back to getting ready yourself. Bella re-touched-up your lipstick and Kenna fastened the straps on your heels for you. Before you knew it, you were completely glammed up and ready to go to the Brits.

“That man’s love for you is unconditional.” Bella made heart eyes after your interaction with Harry.

“I like to think so, yeah.” You chuckled, walking across the room to collect your purse and start breaking in your heels.

“The man on the moon could see his heart beating for you, Y/N, seriously.” Kenna added.

You stood in front of the floor-length mirror and straightened out all the tiny creases in your dress. It was a gorgeous black dress, to match Harry’s black suit. You had never been too confident with your body’s shape, however with the warm embrace of Harry’s love you had come to learn to love yourself too. Tonight was a tribute to how much you’d fallen in love with your body.

“Yeah. I mean, I wish my fiancè looked at me like that.” Bella sighed. “Did Harry fall in love with you more after he married you?”

“I can’t speak for him but…” You started.

“Yeah.” Harry stood behind you and you viewed his outfit through the mirror. He looked absolutely incredible. “I fucking did.”

“Ugh.” Harry Lambert gagged over how romantic the room had just gotten. “You’re disgusting.”

You turned around as Harry walked towards you. You held out a hand for him to hold and you felt the cool of his rings burn your skin before his skin did. You hummed in delight as he interlinked his fingers through yours, tilting your head up to give him access to your lips once more. The strand of hair that dangled over Harry’s forehead had you in a chokehold and you delicately reached up to play with it.

“You look so pretty.” You smiled up at him, him smiling down at you.

Neither of you had started on the drinks yet, but the way that Harry’s eyes were glossed over slightly could have fooled anyone into thinking he was drunk. Turns out that’s just what Harry’s eyes do when he looks at the people he loves.

“Alright, before you two start mauling each other’s faces off, I want photos.” Harry Lambert ordered, pushing Harry’s shoulder lightly to get him to snap out of his focused daze on you.

Harry moved around you so that he was standing slightly behind you. His arm firmly wrapped around your waist and your hand rested over his hand that laid there. Your head slightly tilted into Harry’s chest, whilst Harry’s rested on top of yours. You knew these photos would become Harry’s newest home screen, because he always wanted the most up-to-date photo of you both to admire.

You swapped between a few poses, before Harry Lambert was satisfied and left everyone to do their final checks before leaving.

You pulled Harry back in front of the mirror and pulled out your phone to take a few photos with him, both his arms slinking over your shoulders and leaning his head down to be closer to yours. The photos were sickeningly cute. Only you could convince Harry to take a mirror selfie.

Harry kissed your cheek before saying, “Right. I’m going to go meet the driver and then we are ready to head out, yes?”

“Yes.”

••••

On the red carpet you and Harry stood separately, because Jeff wanted Harry to get some solo photos.

You had been taking photos together for a little while, posing next to each other and sending the media into a frenzy when Harry kissed you.

It wasn’t your first red carpet appearance together, but you and Harry did enjoy keeping your relationship as closed off to the public as possible. It was a little hard, since you were both A-list celebrities, but you made it work in the best way possible for you.

You and Harry had met each other through Tyler, Harry’s producer. You had written a few songs with Tyler before and had suggested that a song you’d written, called ‘Music For A Sushi Restaurant’, might be something that Harry would like. You’d seen him around and thought he was the kind of guy to enjoy a funky song like ‘Sushi’. You never actually expected him to feature the song on his album, let alone ask you out for a drink to talk more about songwriting together.

Harry’s House was a project close to Harry’s heart, not only because it was an album filled with such raw and emotional songs but also because you had written all of the songs with him. He had fallen in love with your style of writing so much that he didn’t want to feature a single song on his album that didn’t include you.

Thanks to Harry, Harry’s House and the hard work you both put in to writing the songs, you had both been nominated and won a Brit Award for ‘Songwriter of the Year’. You never thought you’d even be a recognised name in the music industry, let alone winning Brit Awards, and it was all thanks to Harry.

Over the course of writing Harry’s House you had taken a strong liking towards one another, until one day Harry had solidified his attraction towards you when he kissed you in the middle of writing ‘Grapejuice’ with each other.

The rest was history.

So, when you were stopped on the red carpet and asked to come a little further down to the presentation carpet you furrowed your eyebrows in compliance. You followed the usher down the carpet, hearing Harry ask Jeff, behind you, where you were going.

You stood on the presentation carpet, next to a life-size Brit award waiting for what came next. Roman Kemp came on the carpet next with a microphone.

“Oh no.. I was promised no interviews!” You blushed, covering your mouth with your hand to hide the embarrassment. You were very shy when it came to public media interaction and found that as a result you were socially awkward.

You looked around to try and spot Harry, finally noticing him behind the camera’s smiling at you. He was stood with his hands behind his back and leaning his weight onto one leg, looking like the Gucci model he always is.

“Don’t worry. No interviews.” Roman clarified, calming your nerves instantly. “We are actually here with you, Y/N, because you have won ‘Songwriter of the Year’, correct?”

“I believe so, although I still can’t comprehend why!” You laughed, blushing even harder because you weren’t sure whether that was something to even laugh over. You looked to Harry instantly and saw that he was shaking his head in disbelief that you’d just said that about yourself.

“Well, I am here to present you your award. Congratulations Y/N on winning ‘Songwriter of the Year’!” Roman cheered and then the surrounding media, camera crew and Harry’s team all cheered too. Harry whistled using his fingers in his mouth, making you drop your head in embarrassment over the attention.

Roman handed you the award and you took it graciously, thanking him kindly. You looked towards Harry, again, and watched him continue to whistle for you. You laughed and put your hand over your heart, thanking everyone you could, which was a habit that you’d picked up from Harry.

You hugged Roman briefly and then moved over towards Harry. His arms awaited for you as you happily ran over. He bent down slightly to pick you up by your lower waist, before lifting you up off the floor and swaying you from left to right. One of your arms wrapped around the back of his neck whilst the other stayed to the side holding your Brit. You giggled into his neck as he left a few dozen kisses on yours.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, y’know?” He said, kissing over your skin once more with a little more bite.

“I know.” You whispered just below his ear, kissing his tiny ear lobe then making him chuckle.

“And I really do love you.”

“I really do love you too.”

••••

The venue inside was magical.

The iconic tables were all set out and the audience were already sitting high in their seats. No doubt the fans were already recording videos of you and Harry walking to your table. Harry had invited so many people to the Brits tonight they had two tables reserved for him.

On one table was his band and other people from his record label, whilst the other was reserved for family, his management and you. Of course he was sitting on the table with you.

He held your hand tight as you weaved through the tables, turning around every so often to make sure you were alright still. At one point you spotted Jessie J and tugged on Harry’s hand to catch his attention. He raised his eyebrows to ask what was wrong.

“Jessie’s over there. I want to congratulate her on her pregnancy.” You said, tugging his hand again for him to follow you. Harry was quick to walk behind you and follow you without stepping on your dress.

“Are we sure she’s pregnant?” Harry asked. “The last time I assumed a woman was pregnant it did not go down well.”

“Yeah, I’m still not over that by the way...” You stopped short to pinch his nipple over his silk shirt. Little did you know that that one action from you would cause global fan casualties and trends on Twitter later on.

“Well, if you let me actually make you pregnant, baby, it’ll go down better when I ask.” He smirked, enjoying the feeling of you pressing up against him as you stopped. Your ass was pressed back against him and he moved in even closer to get a better feel.

“That comment just cost you drunk after-party sex.” You faked a small smile, before walking forwards a bit more, leaving Harry behind to feel sorry for himself.

You reached Jessie and congratulated her on her pregnancy, having a laugh with her. It had been a while since you’d seen each other and you both agreed you would have to start writing with each other again soon. Jessie told you to get Harry over to see her at some point in order to congratulate him on his opening performance.

Once you made it back to your table, Harry was busy talking to Rob Stringer and you assumed he wouldn’t notice you after your minor argument. You were wrong, however. Harry stood out of his chair and pulled yours back for you, all whilst keeping his conversation with Rob going. You thanked him kindly as he pushed your chair under the table for you and sat back down himself. His hand went straight to rest on the back of your chair behind you and he crossed his legs over, pointing his body towards yours. This was a silent tell to you that he was working up an apology.

Before you could start up a conversation with anyone, Harry pulled your chair closer to him which made you gasp at the sudden movement.

“What are you-”

“I’m sorry.” Harry said, kissing your cheek afterwards. “I won’t ever ask if you, or any other woman, is pregnant again. I’ll wait for you, and them, to tell me first.”

“Thank you.” You nodded and leant in to kiss him. He eagerly complied and gave you slightly more than just a peck, but enough to keep it P.G. in front of his team, family and thousands of fans. “It’s still a maybe to the sex, though.”

“I’ve got time to change it to a yes.” He smirked, before kissing your forehead and settling down as the lights went down in the arena. 

The screams increased and Salma walked on the stage to present the first award. You rested your head on Harry’s shoulders, leaning into him for some extra comfort. He was happy to let you lean on him, not caring if his suit was now stained a little with makeup from your cheek.

“And the winner of Best Pop Vocal/R&B act is…” Salma paused to create tension.

“It’s gotta be you.” You whispered to him and Harry nudged you gently with his shoulder, because if there was one thing he wasn’t capable of it was taking a compliment - like most British people in fact.

“The one and only..” Salma continued, making you sit up straight and look at Harry who was trying to hide his smirk. “Harry Styles.”

“Yes!” You screamed, throwing your arms around him. He was laughing into your neck as he tugged you back tightly. You knew you couldn’t hold him for long, but when you pulled away - because Harry never pulled away from your hugs first - he kissed your cheek generously. You continued to smile as he hugged Rob and then Gemma as he walked past her.

You continued standing as he reached the podium to give his awards speech, cupping your hands over your mouth to try and hide your very obvious grin. You tried not to vigorously scream when you noticed the single strand of hair dangle over his forehead, but it was very difficult considering he looked so hot.

“Uh…” He started by saying, holding his Brit in the air graciously. “Thank you so so much for this, uh. First of all..” He turned to his fans in the seats behind him, “Thank you. Um, first of all I know this was a fan voted award, so to all my fans who voted thank you so so much.” You mentally patted yourself on the back. “It’s, uh, I have so many wonderful memories at the Brits. Thank you for another one. It is so good to be home, thank you so so much.”

You cheered and screamed like everyone else around you as he continued to thank everyone. Gemma leaned over to you, already slightly tipsy on the prosecco. “Wonder whether by ‘home’ he meant you?”

You had spent so much time away from Harry, whilst both of you were so focused on various other projects, that it had been so long since you’d seen each other. Now you were back with each other, Gemma was right,  it felt like home.

As Harry made his way back to the table he had stopped off to get some shots. He had bought five and managed to spill none on his way over to his seat. He bent over next to you when he had made it back, kissing the side of your head before placing the shots on the table.

“One for you,” He said, handing it off to Jeff. “You,” to Rob, “Gem,” he passed one over to his sister, “And finally you.” He placed it in front of you.

“What’s this for?” You laughed, knowing Harry knew you hated doing shots.

“You’re taking this shot for me, okay?” He ordered, sitting back down in his chair.

“But.. What even is it?” You scoffed.

“Tequila.” Everyone groaned when he said that.

“Oh shut up, the lot of you.” He pulled a face, holding his shot up ready to cheer.

You all cheered each other's shot glasses, tapped them down on the table before knocking them back. Harry didn’t make a face after his, but you ended up coughing. It was so horrible. Harry already had a chaser in his hand ready for you and it made your heart warm that he knew you so well - or your heart could’ve just been warm from the tequila.

“Y’okay?” He laughed, just asking you. You nodded with a sour face. You had a feeling tonight was going to be a heavy one.

••••

Harry had won two more awards and had progressively got more drunk, which only meant that he had gotten more flirty and handsy with you.

He had just kissed Lewis Capaldi and made his way back over to your table after winning ‘Song of the Year’.

You were slightly drunk yourself from having a few too many drinks with Harry - especially with the tequila shots. Your eyes were slightly drowsy as Jeff talked to you.

“What are you and Harry doing tomorrow?” He asked.

“Um, breakfast at that pub we like, then I think he said he’s got meetings with you all afternoon about tour.” Your words slightly slurred together as you tried really hard to concentrate on the words you wanted to use.

“Ah, fuck the meetings. Have him to yourself tomorrow.” Jeff waffed his hand like it was no big deal.

“Oi, you two better be talking about me here.” Harry came up behind you and slunk an arm over your shoulders, kissing your head for good measure.

Harry made you sit back down and handed you a glass of water that he’d picked up along his way back to you.

“Y’feeling okay? A little tipsy, hm?” Harry asked, sitting down next to you and bringing you in closer to kiss your forehead a few times.

“I’m okay.” You said, but it sounded like it was all one word.

“Drink this, alright? For me?” Harry asked, holding the glass of water up to your lips. You took little sips, until you took too much and it started to dribble out of your mouth. Harry stopped and used his thumb to wipe up the wet mess, smiling at you for being so chaotic when drunk.

“You cheated on me.” You pouted after he’d cleaned you up.

“What?” Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Yeah. Y-You cheated on me with Lewis.” You hiccuped out.

“Ohh. To be fair though, you cheated on me with Rina.” Harry raised his eyebrows, smirking at you like two could play your game.

You hummed in delight and smiled when you thought about Rina, who was yours and Harry’s best friend. You’d spent copious amounts of time with her in Japan back in 2018 and you’d all quickly become really good friends.

“Guess we’re both cheaters.” You said, your eyes heavy under the influence.

“Don’t say that. Don’t like it when you say things like that. Kissing you is different to kissing anyone else. With Lewis, or-or with Nick, it’s different. Like they’re m’bestfriends and it’s just a friendly kiss. With you, though..” Harry stopped to hum and smile, “With you the whole world stops a-and m’heart feels like it’s never going to get enough. ‘Cause I love you in a way I never have, and never will, love anybody else.”

Your eyes teared up over listening to him and you leaned forwards, but stopped yourself short when a few tears started to fall. “Fuck.” You mumbled to yourself, wiping your tears away. “Dude, that was too much.” You groaned, trying to blink back any more tears.

“Hey, look at me.” Harry asked and you tilted your head to the side.

“Don’t you dare say anything more romantic. I’m not emotionally stable enough.” You chuckled.

“No. I was just going to say that I love you so much.”

You leant forwards and captured your lips with his, pressing yourself into him to give him a little more than a quick kiss. You pressed your lips deeper onto his, but pulled away before he could really get into it. Because once Harry got into it, especially when he was tipsy, there was absolutely no stopping him.

“I love you.” He repeated himself, looking hazily between your eyes and your lips with a half pout.

“I love you too.” You smiled and kissed him once more.

Then Stanley Tucci made it to the stage to present the award for ‘Album of the Year’. You and Harry settled back down, only after Harry reminded you to drink more of your water. You rolled your eyes, but listened to him nevertheless.

“And the winner for ‘Album of the Year is..” Stanley paused as he opened the card.

“Harry, Harry, Harry.” You repeatedly whispered under your breath, earning a laugh from Jeff.

“Harry Styles!” He called out and Harry went crazy, screaming and bashing the table in excitement. You rocketed onto your feet and cheered for him with every vocal chord you could strain. Gemma screamed with him and he hugged her first, making you awe at the moment. He was quick to turn around to you and pull you in for a bone crushing hug too, kissing your neck a few times.

“Have I changed it to a yes, now?” He spoke next to your ear above the deafening screams. Of course this man was thinking about his post-show shag rather than the actual award he’d just won. You laughed as he pulled back.

“Who wouldn’t want to sleep with a 4-time Brit winner?” You said and it made him smirk really hard, licking his lips quickly before he was ushered to walk to the stage. You continued to clap and scream as he walked up onto the stage, never wanting this moment to end. Harry’s time at the Grammy’s had been a lot more tense and sophisticated than this, so it was nice for him to let loose once in a while.

“Fuck.” He said away from the microphone, but it was still picked up. “Wow.” He recovered from his slip up on live television. “There’s literally no one in this world I love more than Stanley Tucci, so this means so much.” He giggled.

“Rude.” You said under your breath, but Gemma and Jeff laughed making you think you’d said that a little too loudly.

You stood tall and proud as you watched Harry um and awe over his award briefly, perhaps because he was drunk but more so because he’d won ‘Album of the Year’ at both the Grammy’s and the Brits in the same year. That must be some sort of record.

It was his final speech that made the tears restart and your heart fall in love all over again.

“This, uh, night has been really really special to me and I will never forget it. Thank you so much for the welcome home. I appreciate it so much. There is no place like home. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much. So proud to be a British artist and so proud to be here tonight celebrating British artists and British music. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Oh and I should probably mention that none of this would have been possible without my best friend and collaborator, Y/N. This is as much your award as it is mine. Honestly, I have never worked with someone more dedicated to their craft than Y/N. Y/N, you inspire me to be a better person every day and I’m so happy, and grateful, to be doing this with you. I love you. Thank you.”

[harrysfolklore]

brits surprise - singer!yn and harry

ending kinda sucks but i hope you like it :) let me know your thoughts

MY PATREON | MASTERLIST

"Do you want me to hang up so you can get ready?"

"No. Don't," Harry replied, eyes focused on his phone where his girlfriend's face was displayed, "I still have a few minutes before I need to get dressed."

It was one of the most important days for Harry's year, the Brit Awards, it wasn't the first time he was nominated or attending, but after winning Album of The Year at the Grammys mere days before, the night felt even more special.

YN was by his side for the Grammys, cheering for him and holding his hand the entire time. However, her schedule got too tight by the time the Brit Awards came, with tour rehearsals and interviews that didn't allow her to attend the ceremony.

Or that was what Harry thought, but he was completely unaware of the plan his girlfriend, team and friends were orchestrating to get her to London on time to surprise him by announcing one of his awards on stage.

"I really wish you were here," Harry said, running his hands through his dark curls, "But I know you need to rehearse for your tour, and I'm proud of you."

"I'm proud of you too, baby," YN told him, biting back the urge to tell him that she was planning on surprising him, "You're going to do amazing."

"Sue, It's time to get dressed." Lambert voice was heard through the room, and Harry knew it was his cue to hang up.

"I have to go love, but I'll make sure to call you before I go on stage, okay?"

"It's okay, H. Good luck!"

After a couple of hours had passed and Harry delivered an amazing performance, won 3 awards, thanked his former bandamates on stage, kissed Lewis Capaldi and chugged down too many tequila shots, the most important moment of the night was coming up.

Harry was going to get the Album of The Year award and his girlfriend was ready to surprise him on stage.

He was unaware of it all, still thinking that he might not get the award at the end like it happened in 2019 with his album Fine Line.

Mo Gilligan, the host of the night came on stage to introduce who was presenting the category, and when her girlfriend's name was called, Harry thought the alcohol he had chugged down was playing games with his mind.

It was safe to say that he lost his mind when he saw the girl he loved walk out clad in her navy blue suit looking absolutely stunning.

"Good evening Brit Awards!" she said into the mic, making the entire audience erupt in cheers, "You know I wouldn't miss UK's biggest night for anything in the world, and I'm here to present the award for Album of the Year, these are the nominees."

Harry was lost for words, and he didn't care if he lost the award, he just wanted to rush to the stage and kiss his girlfriend.

"And the winner is..." she said after the video showing the nominees was over, opening the envelope, "Harry Styles!"

The melodies from Late Night Talking filled the arena as Harry let out an excited scream and made his way to the stage, eager to reach his girlfriend who was holding out the award for him.

"I can't believe you're here! You sneaky shit!" Harry spoke into her ear as they hugged, placing soft pecks to her cheek, "This is so amazing!" he leaned back to look at her, not thinking twice before grabbing her face and placing a quick peck to her lips.

Remembering that he was on live television and that he had just won a major award, he let go of her and approached the mic to give his speech.

"This night has been really, really special to me and I will never forget it. Thank you so much for the welcome home, I appreciate it so much. There is no place like home. Thank you, thank you, thank you," he paused for a minute to look at his award and smile, "I’m so, so proud to be a British artist out there in the world. I’m so proud to be here tonight celebrating British artists and British music. Thank you, thank you, thank you," he turned his face to look at his girlfriend fro a minute, "I would also love to thank this stunning, sneaky woman who didn't tell me she was going to be here, you really surprised me, love. I'm so grateful you're here, I love you," he blew a quick kiss to her, and she mouthed a soft "I love you" back, "I’m gonna hand it over to Tom and Tyler. Thank you so much for this, I’m so grateful.”

After Tom and Tyler were done with their speeches and the four of them were off the stage, Harry couldn't wait much longer before he was crashing his lips to his girlfriend's again.

"I'm so happy you're here, so so happy."

"I'm always going to be here, love."

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[meetmymouth]

social media au: y/n being horny on main after the brits (see also: y/n 🤝 harries)

89,402 likes

yourusername @gemmastyles u look hot ♥️

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jeff_azoff 😂

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ynarchive y/n via instagram stories #yn #brits2023

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ynsbaddie this bitch horny on main again

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[sweetsbfreex]

the silk shirt

summary: it's the brits award 2023 and not only is harry's silk shirt your downfall, so is his drunken state.

warnings: fluff!

pairings: husband!harry x reader

—

“No fucking way,” you sit up when Harry comes out of the changing room. He’s Sexily dressed up in a great in a black suit, but that isn’t what takes up your attention. It’s the silver silk shirt he adorns, unbuttoned enough that you could get a peek of his butterfly tattoo. 

“What?” He looks down at his outfit, “You don’t like it?” He smirks, fixing the placement of his necklace as he walks towards you. 

“I did not say that, don’t be so vain.” You roll your eyes. And when he stands before you, you can’t help but let a hand fall to his bare chest. “You look very handsome.” 

“And you look striking, my love. Very, very beautiful,” he continues on, pecking your lips. “I knew you'd like the shirt.” He teases in between, gently biting your bottom lip. 

Tonight was the Brits! Harry had already walked the carpet in his first outfit and you had opted out, not in the mood to be shouted at from all angles. He also already performed in his second outfit, belting “As It Was” like the star he was. Now, he was in his third outfit of the night.

You throw an arm over his neck, pulling him even closer to you and his fall to your hips in balance. That’s until you pull away, only a breath apart. “You ready to sweep tonight?” 

“Love.” He shys away, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“What? You deserve it.” You tell him softly, running your thumb over his cheek. 

“I know, I know. Just— yea.” 

“I understand,” you chuckle. 

There’s a little pause, just for a second. “How much time do you think we have left?”

“I’ve got you, hm?” There’s that smug look on his face again. 

“Mhm.” 

And you think you’ve got him when he leans down to kiss you again. His soft lips over yours, before he moves to pepper kisses to your cheek and down your neck. You let out a sigh when he tenderly kisses the spot right under the hook of your jaw. And you restrain yourself from running your hands through his hair. His hands slither down to knead your ass. You can feel the pressure of his fingers and the band of his rings. 

“H..” 

You just want to be here with him, as he presses his hips into yours. 

He pulls away, “Not enough time, love.” He breathes out, still peppering kisses on your now swollen lips. 

“Please?” 

You palm him roughly, just like he likes it. 

Harry looks down, eyes blown wide. “Love,” he groans. He’s married the proper definition of trouble, and he knows it. But he lets himself lack for a few more seconds before he’s tugging your hand away and kissing the palm of your hand. 

“I'll give you some proper loving after, I promise.” 

You sigh, “You’ve got me riled up now, you oaf.”

He chuckles at your dismay, “You think I wanna go out like this,” addressing the bulge which stretches the fabric of his pants. 

—

It’s been a great night so far. You’re seated beside Harry, Gemma on the other side. But there’s a heavy amount of anticipation in the air as the nomination for Best Pop/R&B act is announced. 

Harry has your hand held under the table. Though he doesn’t show it, he’s as nervous as a cat on hot bricks. 

“Harry Styles!”

He looks up when he hears his song playing over the arena. Excitement was coursing through his veins. He hugs Gemma and fist bumps his cousin, before turning to you with a beam on his face. He kisses your cheek as he pulls you in a hug. 

—

He’s won Song of the Year and you and Gemma laughed amongst yourself watching Harry take a shot on stage. But it seemed that was all he needed to get his night going as he sips drink after drink. 

But Harry’s an affectionate drunk. And you know he’s quite buzzed when, even in the public eye, can’t resist keeping a hand on you at all times. 

His lips caress your cheeks more than usual at a setting like this. His arm around your shoulder keeps you tucked beside him at all times. And the hand between your thigh only gets riskier and riskier. 

“Baby, drink some water.” You bring a glass of water up to his face once you’ve noticed the way his eyes glaze over. 

“I’m fine, love. Gemma, tell your sister-in-law I’m fine.” 

Gemma laughs at her little brother, “Maybe take a sip or two, H.” 

“See,” you tell him.

“Fine.” He groans like a petulant child. But does as he’s told, downing the glass. 

—

It’s the last one for the night and he’s three for four, at the moment. 

“I love you.” Harry hums against your temple, his arm on your shoulder.

“I love you too, handsome.” You turn to him with a smile, placing your hand against his cheek. It’s just you two in this little bubble, or at least it feels that way with the way Harry looks at you. 

You lower your hand. “You’re a little juiced up, huh?” You tease. 

He lifts up his free hand, holding his thumb and pointer finger together. “Just a smidge.” Before he belched into his fist. “Sorry.”

“Ew, H” 

..

“And your artist of the year is…Harry Styles!”

In a drunken fit, Harry bangs his fist against the table, then shoots up from his seat. He hugs his sister and kisses her cheek. Then turns to you, his wife, who stands beside him cheering him on with unshed tears in her eyes. And in a moment of outright happiness, a fulfilled heart, and a surge of fondness for the women he loves. He sweeps you into a kiss. 

You thought he’d go the proper route, just a hug and a sweet peck at most. But his arm winds around your waist and his hand takes place on your cheek, before he’s sweeping you into a crushing kiss. And who are you to deny the man. 

It’s over fairly quickly, nothing too crazy. He was still on national television, after all, and his mum was probably watching. 

Harry makes his way to the stage with a pep in his step. You watch as he accepts the award, hugging the presenter. 

He clears his throat once he’s handed the mic. 

“What a night!” The room rises in cheers. “I want to thank everyone for listening. I want to thank my mum for signing me up for X factor. My family for their support. Niall, Liam, Louis, Zayn, because I wouldn’t be here without them. And especially my wife: thank you for everything you do. I love you, and don’t know what I'd do without you and your support. Thank you Brits!” He finishes off before waving and getting off the stage. 

—

“Are you having fun?” Harry mumbles into your air. His hands are clasped together in front of your waist, your back to his front, as you swing slowly side to side. 

You're presently at the after party, changed into your second outfit of the night, and Harry into his fourth. You’ve had a few in you too, and the both of you truly just danced the night away and mingled with your friends that were present. 

“The best night,” you drop your head on his shoulder, looking up into his emerald gaze. Harry looks down at you in return, a soft look in his eyes, but you’re pretty sure it’s the alcohol drawing his eyes together like that. 

Harry lowers his head to kiss the tip of your nose. “Enough to head back home?” 

Harry’s question is lined with the offer of a sensual night. 

“Definitely.”

—

a/n: i've missed writing for him!!! i'm so happy i was able to get some inspiration

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback 💗

[hstylestuff]

like or reblog if you save

[gucciwins]

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 🫶

[be-with-me-so-happily]

Never necessarily wanted to be Stanley Tucci til now

Harry: "... love ya."

Stanley: "Aw, love you too."

Harry: "I miss you guys."

😭🥰😭🥰

[elioslover]

Bronze is Better. (BRITS)

Another meet-cute at the Brits (idc how late this is, I lost a month to my wisdom tooth). This is the second blurb in a short series I'm doing about bump-ins at award shows/ famous functions. Will probably become less ambiguous with each part! Let me know what you think? - Emmy xo

Part One / Part Three / Other Writing

Warnings: (Use of She/her pronouns).

Word Count: 1.4k

---

He has dressed up again. Styled to the nines- no, the tens. Leaving the vague secrecy and safety of the car, blinking cameras bouncing sparkles atop his artfully polished shoes as his feet steady and relax on the rolled-out carpet. Each blinding flash forcing the fear of losing his sight forever to the forefront, vision coming and going with violent rapidity. 

His name never sounded so inferior- butchering, belting, bargains for attention- making him feel like no more than a marionette. He deems it doesn’t get better- nor easier- praise peppered so falsely atop him like gourmet fillet whilst he felt like a fucking cheeseburger, in at least more sense than one.

In the midst of it all, murmurs and mutters mixing with people trying for successful projection, names of stars he could neither see nor care for, he is solely navigating through the suffocating swirl of photographers, praying for the solace of an auditorium- also packed, in orderly conduct. Same routine, separate venue. Hard to reason with how he has ended up here, what this is all for, passion fading on the tip of his tongue, swiftly pacified as he is being ushered towards an interviewer once more, mic scarcely missing his mouth, offering him an opportunity to speak on his attendance, and for torture’s sake, He is forgetting his own creations, collaborations, contemplating- panicking over his cause for participation. 

He’s conjuring up responses- both charming, yet surface- to a sufferingly surface question. And he knows whatever he lands on will be looked over in playback- focus condensing to the way the colour of his blazer brings out the boldness of his eyes, perhaps harping in on his hair, how stubble scatters his cheeks, and how honest his hidden dishonesty is coming off. 

Almost gagging on his own words, a golden chorus of cheers calls out to the right, and instinctual curiosity tilts his head to follow, watching a well-named, well-dressed actor stepping out onto the carpet. He hardly cares though, because, through the collection of people, She is crammed into a corner, waiting for the wave of contenders to crash over and crawl away from the shore, instead settling on mending the state of the bronzy silk masking her skin, making sure it will move in synch. 

If He didn’t return his courtesy to the camera now, he would never hear nor see the end of it. And his answer was quickly followed by a new question, which spurred on another answer, and that only encouraged another question. He wondered if this weak cycle of watered-down conversing would soon circle on into something of substance- or would he need to creep and crawl towards withdrawal, to just stop starting? Because his whole body is sore with keenness, desperate to both finish this interview and to seek out the silken stranger- the silver bracelet’s innkeeper. But when the pulsing within activates such an aching that He can’t help but peek over once more, She has already been misplaced within the mass of man and woman. 

Disappointment turns his aches to throbs, which he feels might swell his brain so badly it will spew out from the open spaces between his ears and nose, and the interviewer aids him with the umpteenth intro to the next interrogation- a true talent for turning such irrelevance into something appealing to fans and viewers alike. He has to admire, actually impressive that someone could turn something he utters so sluggishly into something of any value. 

She doesn’t see his front, yet, with solitarily his back on show, He is still more than decipherable, stance definitely him, and that is more than sufficient to surge her directly his way, dipping into the wave, surfing smoothly within the restless sea of somebody’s until she resurfaces and comes to rest right beside him. 

He feels the unexpected wrap of Her fingers around his wrist, caressing his cufflinks, creating an invitation for his attention, and he looks over to the owner in fright before the coolness of her hand suddenly chills his heart. She glances up at Him graciously, a hint of hope for his remembrance- grateful for the confirmation of his widening gaze, and she shows no evident concern for the rolling camera, or the threat of her kind hand holding him hostage, as the smile she is sweetly sending him sees the scrunches of her eyes. 

He blocks the joy that wants to jolt his body all the way back to last July, and instead allows himself to turn and bend to better address her, borrowing Her his full attention, forcing the camera to substitute and follow his cheekbones, for he is already far from the former conversation when She continues sending signal flares with each blink, each lash flutter, luring him to lean, and lean, and then almost stumble back. 

She plays the Fool, hiking up onto the pointers of her high heels, head craning to properly greet him, gorgeous gazes locking in unspoken hello’s, countless seconds passing by before her lips part, and His shortly follow before She gives him the gift of a true greeting, tenderness trailing through the gap in her teeth, gathering Him up in a tornado of shyness that He felt to be frighteningly foreign. 

He thinks he says hello back, and when her shoulders sigh out the breath She didn’t know she had been holding securely, he knows he must have worded something welcoming enough. Her smile widens, to his greatest pleasure, and He fends off the impulse to slip off into a daze as she parts her lips to press on, 

“Thank you…” She warps focus to her fingers, still wrapping up His wrist like the bracelet that bonded them, he follows to where they are being bound, “For the...” 

He nods sillily, blinking back silent recognition, and when He recalls this successless moment after, he is madly resentful of the way he splutters out an, “Oh, of course, no sweat,” whilst almost evidently sweating anyhow. 

Perhaps She had been expecting his response to be something otherwise because her eyes are owling, her mouth opening and closing like a fish, as she scrambles and fears the start of a fumble nearing, His stomach hikes up to his throat at the sight of her- the feel of her fingers slipping from his wrist. 

Needing to retreat with hasty remorse for recklessly inserting herself into the middle of his interview, She is feeling like a right interruption- and the way His brows furrow only confuses her more, unable to determine if he is confused as to why she would uproot his camera connection or is just simply curious. Nevertheless, the air around her turns stale as she takes a step back, straightening herself off of all crumbs with care. 

“I owe you...” A last attempt at saving herself from this self-inflicted shame, self-esteem down the drain. But She only feels her stomach knotting, squirming, and cringing as she removes herself entirely- encouraged to look back, but firm on not.

Once again, He is but an observer, out of complete control, and unable to find even a corner to grasp at as he is attacked by the ever-tightening chains of the camera, unseen cables pinching at his skin, stuck in a place he has not once wished to be, wrapping and twisting him with each attempt at tampering, at trying to walk away; as what feels like a real opportunity travels away with the waves. The weight of the world balances on the shoulders of said camera, begging Him to aid in carrying the burden.

He wants to slip, to be whisked away into the valley, to valiantly wash up and bump his shoes into the back of Hers, unabashedly validating her unnecessary, but admirable need for appreciation, verifying his undoubtful pleasure of being in her presence and wondering if that would happen after bidding the present adieu. 

So, He lets the camera go completely, careless as to if it crashes and scatters across the carpet behind him, chains following soon after, falling from his limbs, left in a pathetic puddle as he leaves no survivors. Seeking out the curious Silver Bracelet Girl, seeming to finally feel some form of certainty. 

[riverflowwsinyou]

Berlin, Germany

[ifthestarswereedibleharry]

i will never get over how good harry looked at the brits last year

[emmasincenewyrk]

you can’t convince me this isn’t actually an art piece

[whoreforlarrystuff]

Okay but we need to talk about the symbolism that this man uses when he dresses- especially when it comes to the flowers. Subtle, perfectly part of the ensemble.

[ourmarquis]

Harry in one of his Brit Awards outfits! 🌹

[hstylestuff]

like or reblog if you save

[hstyleswiftx]

ok now we urgently need concepts about harry in brits

[francistpwk]

Grammy x Brit winner Mr Harry Styles ♥️