w2s x fem reader where shes out w maybe talip freya etc and shes so drunk and she just wants harry and he has to come get her and shes just so in love
Drunk in Love - Harry Lewis
description: you should know better than to drink on an empty stomach, and you should really stop telling everyone about what you let Harry do to you as soon as you've had a glass of wine.
warnings: none really, mainly fluff, kind of suggestive
Hope this is what you had in mind lovely anon!
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It was Freya’s birthday, and the four of you had started the night with the best intentions. A nice dinner, a few drinks, maybe some dancing. That plan lasted exactly until the first round of shots hit the table and you realised you’d forgotten to eat anything since breakfast.
Two hours later you were absolutely steaming. The club lights were spinning, the bass was in your bones, and your filter had completely disappeared.
You were clinging to Talia’s arm, eyes glassy, voice overly sweet as you told her, “You’re so pretty, Talia. Like… I get why Simon can’t keep his hands off you. If I were him I’d be all over you too.” You giggled, then immediately added, “But I want my Harry. He’s the only one who gets to put his hands where he wants.”
Talia burst out laughing, patting your head. “You’re a menace when you’re drunk.”
“I’m not a menace,” you protested, swaying into her. “I’m just honest. And horny. And I miss Harry’s hands. They’re big and warm and they do that thing on my waist that makes my brain go fuzzy… and then there’s the thigh thing. God, the thigh thing…”
Freya and Faith were losing it nearby, barely holding back tears of laughter.
“Mate, she’s gone,” Faith grinned, phone out. “This is gold.”
You pointed dramatically at the ceiling. “Why isn’t Harry here? It’s Freya’s birthday and my boyfriend isn’t here to… wish you happy birthday or…to pin me against a wall.”
You were mid-rant about how Harry’s hoodie smelled like home and how you wanted to steal it and wear nothing else when you accidentally backed into someone.
“Oi, watch where you’re— oh. It’s you lot,” Simon laughed, steadying you.
You squinted at Simon, then at Talia, then back at Simon. Your bottom lip wobbled.
“Simon… you get to go home with Talia and do all the couple things. That’s so unfair. I want Harry.” Your voice cracked. “It’s been six months and I still get stupidly turned on when he says my name and he’s not here and I’m drunk and empty-stomach emotional and I just want him to come drag me home and do whatever he wants with me.”
Simon blinked, fighting a laugh. “Whatever he wants, eh?”
“Don’t encourage her,” Talia muttered, rubbing your back while clearly amused.
You were in full sappy-horny drunk mode now. “Harry’s so lovely. He pretends he’s all calm and tough but when we’re alone he’s not calm at all. He gets this look and his hands go everywhere and— and then he does the thigh thing and I can’t even think straight. I just really love him, okay? Like, I want to climb him like a tree right now. Tell him I want to climb him. No, don’t. I’ll tell him. But he’s not here!”
Faith was nearly crying. “I can’t breathe.”
Simon pulled his phone out, still chuckling. “Right. I’m calling Harry before you start offering to demonstrate the thigh thing on the dance floor.”
You gasped. “I would never. I’m classy.”
Simon stepped away. “Mate… yeah, it’s me. Your girl is hammered. Forgot to eat, gone full emotional and very… suggestive. She’s currently telling everyone how much she loves you and how she wants you to do ‘the thigh thing’ and drag her home. Yeah. Proper lovey and handsy. You might want to come get her before she tries to hump something in public.”
There was a pause, then Simon laughed. “She’s safe, just very affectionate. Alright. See you soon.”
He hung up and grinned at you. “Harry’s on his way. Sounded equal parts worried and amused.”
You perked up. “He’s coming? Really?”
“Yeah. To stop you from climbing random tall objects, apparently.”
You beamed and hugged Talia again. “See? He’s the best. I’m gonna marry him one day. After he’s done the thigh thing a few more times.”
The girls were still giggling when Harry appeared twenty minutes later, cap pulled low, looking half-amused, half-exasperated. The second you saw him your face lit up.
“Harry!” You launched yourself at him. He caught you with both hands on your waist, steadying you as you pressed yourself against his chest.
“There’s my girl,” he murmured, voice low. “Jesus, you’re pissed.”
“I missed you,” you mumbled into his hoodie, hands already sliding under the hem to rest on his warm skin. “You smell like home. And I want your hands on me. All over me. Right now. Please? Especially the thigh thing…”
Harry’s grip tightened slightly, a quiet laugh rumbling in his chest as he glanced at the girls. “What the fuck have you done to her?”
“She’s been like this for the last hour,” Talia grinned. “Very… descriptive about what she wants you to do when you get her home.”
“Oi, don’t encourage her,” Harry said, but his ears were a little pink. He tilted your chin up gently. “Come on, love. Let’s get you food and water before you start negotiating in public.”
You grinned up at him, eyes heavy-lidded and playful. “Negotiating? I’m just saying I wouldn’t mind if you carried me home and reminded me why these thighs are your favourite.”
“Christ,” Harry muttered, but he was smiling as he guided you towards the exit, one strong arm wrapped securely around you. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
You leaned into him, whispering far too loudly, “Good death. The best death. With your hands and your mouth and the thigh thing—”
“Food first,” he cut in, laughing. “Then we’ll see about the rest when you can stand straight.”
Sunlight filtered softly through the curtains the next morning. Your head was pounding, mouth dry, and you were tangled in Harry’s sheets wearing nothing but one of his oversized hoodies and your underwear.
Harry was already awake, propped up on one elbow beside you, watching you with a soft, amused smile. His hair was messy, and there were faint marks on his neck that made your cheeks heat up.
“Morning, trouble,” he said quietly, voice still rough with sleep.
You groaned, burying your face in the pillow. “Please tell me I didn’t embarrass myself too badly last night.”
Harry chuckled, reaching over to tuck hair behind your ear. “Depends on your definition of embarrassing. You told everyone you wanted me to ‘do the thigh thing,’ offered to climb me like a tree, and spent ten minutes describing exactly how my hands make your brain go fuzzy.”
You peeked up at him, mortified but laughing. “Oh god. Did I really?”
“Mm. Very detailed.” He leaned down, pressing a slow kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then just below your ear. His voice dropped lower. “You also said you wanted me to carry you home and remind you why these thighs are my favourite.”
Your face burned. “I hate drunk me.”
“I don’t,” he murmured, hand sliding under the hoodie to rest warmly on your bare thigh, thumb tracing lazy circles. “Drunk you is very honest. And very… enthusiastic.”
You shivered at his touch, shifting closer. “And sober me?”
“Sober you is still enthusiastic,” he said, smirking. “Just slightly less likely to announce it to the entire club.”
You laughed softly, rolling onto your side to face him properly. “Sorry for making Simon call you. And for being a sappy, handsy mess.”
“Don’t apologise.” He pulled you in, kissing you properly this time—slow and deep. When he pulled back he rested his forehead against yours. “I like knowing my girl wants me that much. Even when she’s absolutely battered.”
Your phone buzzed repeatedly on the bedside table. Then it buzzed again. And again.
Harry raised an eyebrow. “That’ll be the group chat.”
You grabbed it with a sense of dread and opened the messages.
Morning legend 😂 How’s the head? And more importantly… what the fuck is the thigh thing???
I’ve been wondering the same since 3am. You kept saying it like we were supposed to know. Is it a sex thing? A massage thing? Harry’s signature move?? Spill.
Simon won’t stop laughing about it. He said you offered to demonstrate it on the dance floor 😂 Harry came to collect you looking traumatised but also very pleased with himself.
Mate I’m just the messenger. But yeah… the thigh thing has been mentioned approximately 47 times. Talia keeps asking me if I have a thigh thing. I feel inadequate now.
^ Same energy. Ethan just raised an eyebrow at me when I brought it up this morning. We need details or we’re never letting this go.
I’m making it my new personality trait until you explain. “The Thigh Thing™” – patent pending.
You groaned loudly and showed Harry the screen. He read it and immediately started laughing, shoulders shaking.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered. “They’re never gonna drop this.”
You quickly typed a reply, cheeks flaming.
I hate all of you. And drunk me. The thigh thing is none of your business 😂 Go away.
The replies came instantly.
TOO LATE. We’re invested now.
Harry’s probably smirking right next to you isn’t he? Tell him Simon says well done on the thigh thing.
If it’s that good you should write a review. 10/10 would recommend to a friend (but not actually because he’s taken).
Harry leaned over, still chuckling, and pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “You gonna tell them?”
“Absolutely not,” you said, locking the phone and tossing it aside. “They can wonder forever.”
He grinned, rolling you gently beneath him, careful of your hangover. His hand slid back to your thigh, thumb brushing the same spot that had you weak last night. “Good. Because that one’s just for us.”
You bit your lip, already feeling the familiar flutter. “Though… you could refresh my memory again. Just so I remember exactly what they’re teasing me about.”
Harry’s eyes darkened playfully. “Only if you eat something first. Can’t have you passing out before round two.”
“Deal,” you whispered, pulling him down for another kiss. “But tell the group chat to shut up.”
He laughed against your lips. “They won’t. But I don’t mind them knowing I’ve got you this whipped.”
You swatted his arm, laughing. “Shut up and do the thigh thing.”
“Bossy,” he teased, but he was already obliging.
