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Award Anticipation

This is very short and very messy because it came to me while my boss was yapping about the Oscars at work today. x 

Originally posted by otra2o15

“Harry it’s starting,” you cry out, settling down onto the couch and grabbing the remote from the coffee table.

“M’comin love. Making yeh a snack,” he cries back from the kitchen as the microwave door shuts. 

You flip through the channels until you find the one you’re looking for, reaching over the back of the couch after you set the remote down to grab the blanket you have laying across the back of it. 

Harry appears not a moment later, looking cozy in a long sleeved shirt and a pair of sweatpants. 

“Thank you,” you mumble with appreciation as he sinks into the couch next to you, bowl of popcorn in his hands. 

“Mm, welcome love.” He says, kissing the top of your head. 

You fix the blanket around you two, making sure you aren’t hogging all of it before he lifts an arm and lets you tuck into his side. 

You hum contently as you take the bowl from his hands, and he gives your shoulder a squeeze as you pop a few kernels into your mouth.

The tv is flickering, the red carpet coverage shooing away as it goes straight to the award show. The stars are seated and the blackness disappears as the light shines through the arena and the show begins.

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You Could Have

As promised – not Kansas City OTRA, but very much inspired by it. I’ve had this as a WIP since April or so, so it’s nice to have it out. That said: I’M NERVOUS AS ALL GET OUT cause they kind of… are… there’s a crude topic in this. They’re just having a go at each other, though. ACK *flips tables* Enjoy, everybody, I’m gonna hide now. x

It’s the last song when security finds you and escorts you from your seat and through the crowd. You’re a little disappointed that you don’t get to see the show finish, but knots of excitement are twisting in your belly as you are herded past barricades where no one else is allowed to go. Music and fireworks, almost obnoxiously loud, are muffled backstage, and you hear voices, familiar by this point and one more so than the rest, saying earnest goodnights and wishes of love and safe returns home to the crowd that so worships them. Preparation to tear down and packup equipment has already started around you, and you pause in the wings, shaking your head when security tries to usher you to move.

He’ll be there. He’ll find you.

Sure enough, he’s all legs and hair when he appears at last, leaping over a thick wire before it can catch his boot and twist his ankle. He’s got a towel in his hand, but it’s useless on his long, wet, curly hair. He’s all but drenched from head to toe, with most of his grey t-shirt stained with sweat and clinging to his body, and while the heat is mainly to blame for that, the water he’d been spitting and throwing hadn’t helped (although, it had probably cooled him off).

He’s tanner than you remember him being last, but that’s what months of outdoor shows and sightseeing on off days will do to him. The muscles on his slick arms look just a little bigger and more defined, too, and even the most casual twist or bend of his heavily tattooed left arm makes ink practically jump every time.

His eyes, though, are most striking, and they’re only for you as he continues his beeline in your direction.

“You’re soaked, love,” he teases you through a cheeky grin and popping dimples with a voice like honey and sandpaper.

You won’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his double-entendre.

“Some twat kept spitting water at me the whole night,” you inform him, opening your arms for him.

Harry grins wider – a cocky, satisfied grin. “Yeah?” His hand slides possessively around your waist for the first time in ages and you fold your hands behing his neck. “Tell me his name an’ I’ll get him.”

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Anytime

Hello you lovely people! Here’s another one for you guys, based on this request:  OMG you should totally do a shot where Harry has some trouble getting it up….

Hope you guys enjoy it! Let me know what you think, love B xx

***

Originally posted by yves-saintharry

He’s tired. He is so tired.

There’s not enough sleep in this world that’ll help him get enough energy to get up and leave his house.

Harry’s been running himself ragged with all the studying and working he’s been putting in for this new role he’s got lined up.

Night after night, you find him with his face buried in books and scripts that look ratty and old from how much he’d fussed with it and scanned page after page with tired, sleepless eyes so he can prepare himself as much as he can for when they start shooting.

Add that to all the catching up with friends and visiting family and the time he tries and spend with you, his best friend, and that’s enough to have him dragging himself around, barely any energy to get up and make himself something to eat.

You’ve watched him neglect the gym shoes that are left in a corner of his bedroom way too many times for it to be healthy and you’re starting to worry wether or not this acting career of his is really worth it if it’s going to wear him down like this.

Expressing these concerns every time you walk through his door after running an errand for him because he’s too tired to function had become a routine. His only response now is to tell you he’ll “sleep when he can”, but you don’t see that happening any time soon.

“When was the last time you got out of the house?” You ask him, after a quick trip to the nearest Waitrose down the road, resting a bag full of ingredients so you can make him a decent meal.

“Dunno.” He shrugs, heels of his hands rubbing tightly against his tired eyes to push away the blurriness in his vision. “Can’t remember.”

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