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twohearts-hs · 4 years ago

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‘A Small Phone Call ( VI {final} )’ - Harry Styles Divorce Series

Words: 2.3k

Pairing: Harry Styles & (Y/N) (Y/L/N)

Warnings: swearing, divorce & I make Harry seem like a asshole even though he isn’t :(

Summary: They’ve been together since fifteen; her going through every moment with him, and likewise. It has always been (Y/N) and Harry, since the beginning of time. But, they started noticing the red flags that the saying is true, all high school love doesn’t stick. Therefore it is time to sign the papers, but what will happen when she is afraid of a simple two pink lined stick? What will happen to them? What if she keeps it hidden from him?

|| Masterlist in bio ||

Y/N walked back into the flat, letting out a deep breath as she placed her handbag on the counter.

“Did you fixed it?” she heard a voice behind her. She turned around and came face to face with Mylene.

Y/N waved her phone in her hand, “Just got off the phone with the lawyer. It is getting fixed right now,” she mumbled, walking around to grab a snack - cheese and crackers, not too bad for a pregnant woman.

“Good,” she heard, as Mylene walked off to her bedroom.

Did she regret it? Of course, it was an action done in anger at the time and now she needed to handle this situation maturely. Y/N has decided, Harry and her were having a baby, however, they can’t have this child together as a couple.

In the past, the two were two peas in a pod, yet now they were both poisonous for each other; what a shame that time ruined them. Does Y/N still believe that she and Harry were soulmates? That is the million-dollar question.

However, that isn’t the question she should answer now. Life has just gone upside down and she is about to become a mother. When she first got pregnant with Tate, she was ready, the nursery was done and excitement flooded her veins. Now, it was the opposite, she was scared shitless. At 24, working a job that barely pays the bills and now a baby on the way, it was scary. Her option could be to ask for a ridiculous amount of money for child support from Harry or just struggle. She is choosing the latter.

Y/N sat at the barstool in her kitchen, craving a large drink, however, she could never do that to her baby. Thoughts upon thoughts were replaying in her brain of what is gonna happen or what will happen; it was scary.

A message appeared on her phone, lighting the darkroom, as she took a bite from her cracker.

From Harry:

I am glad we are ok. H

She smiled, typing her response, but chose not to respond. They were ok. She was going to be ok. This baby is going to be ok. There was nothing to panic about.

He was hovering. She was done. Y/N had enough.

The next while was ok, Harry joined appointments, texted name ideas and was supportive, but the minute she hit 8 months - 33 weeks to be exact - he was annoying, controlling and was just plain trapping her.

Every little moment, he was on her heels. Don’t eat this, don’t carry that, you are putting the child in danger with that, how are you doing, can I help, etc. She was done. Y/N knew he was trying his best to be helpful and to give her a break, but it didn’t come across that way. She felt no freedom once again, just like the marriage they use to be in.

Harry was in her flat, at the kitchen to be exact. He was cooking, she was sitting on the couch with a headache and about to explode in anger. Hormones perhaps? Or was it the fact that Harry has been sleeping on the couch every night and driving her insane? Nevertheless, she was done.

Y/N got up, walking to the kitchen and opening the fridge. She grabbed some food in a container and headed to the microwave. Harry turned around from cutting up vegetables.

“I am making you dinner. You shouldn’t eat Mylene’s trash food. It’s not -”

“Get the fuck out, please and thank you,” she mumbled, pinching her thumb and finger between the bridge of her nose. The pregnant woman knew it sounded harsh, but she was tired and angry because of him.

Harry was taken aback from her attitude. Yes, he has gotten used to the hormonal mood swings, but she was never aggressive or snappy. He glared at her softy, eyebrows scrunching as he examined his ex-wife.

“Excuse me?” he asked, crossing his arms across his chest. She could smell it, a fight heading their way.

“Harry, please, you heard me. Can you please leave?” she mumbled, hearing the microwave beeping and getting her food. Picking up a fork and walking past him. His arm went out, hand grabbing the container and taking the food from her.

“You can’t eat that. It isn’t good for the baby. I am making you a healthy-”

“Harry,” she said sternly, looking him straight in the eyes, “give me the goddamn mac and cheese right now, or I swear to god,” he laughed, taking the container and emptying it in the trash can.

She was done.

“Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. House,” she said, spitting every word with viciousness. “I don’t want you here,” snappiness flooding from her mouth.

Harry shook his head, leaning against the counter and raising an eyebrow.

“You’re being ridiculous, Y/N,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“No, no, no. You do not get the right to say that,” she walked up at him, pointing a finger at his chest. “The last few weeks, you have been absolutely horrible, controlling and just annoying. Yes, I am carrying our child, but we are not married. You can not boss me around and I have had enough. We got divorced for a reason and now you are all up in my face trying to play house. I don’t want you in my life anymore, however, I am being a kind human being and allowing you to have a part in my child’s life. So no, don’t you call me ridiculous. You should be thankful that I am being a humble person. With that, get the fuck out of my house and I will call you when my child is popping out of my vagina.” Y/N turned around, walking to the door and opening it.

Harry stared at her, blinking and trying to take in every word. “No,” he mumbled, turning around and going back to cutting the vegetables.

She was fuming and in shock. He said no, he uprightly said no and went back to what he was doing. What the fuck was he doing?

“Oh, we are gonna play that game,” she responded, stomping past him and heading to her bedroom. Harry watched her and thought nothing of it and went back to what he was doing.

A little while later, she came back with a duffle bag and her handbag.

“Make sure you lock the door behind you,” she said, glaring at him and walking straight for the door.

“Where the fuck are you going?” he yelled, hitting the counter loudly and hot on her tracks grabbing the strap of her bag and pulling her to him. Y/N’s eight-month belly touching his chest.

“Let go of me,” she sternly said. Harry let go.

“Where are you going?”

“Somewhere where you are not. I will call you when I am in labour, but please stop breathing down my neck. I understand you want to be helpful, but I feel trapped. I can’t work, because you said so. I am too much on my feet, which is bad for the baby as you said. I am at home, where you are here and I can’t do that. I can’t be living with my ex-husband. I want a life-”

“You’re being selfish.”

Wet, hot tears were flowing down her face. She backed up against the wall, sliding down. “Just leave.”

And he left reluctantly.

Y/N wanted this baby. She was getting excited. The nursery was built, her baby bag was ready to go and a perfect name was picked. She was ready.

36 weeks hit, no word from Harry since that night. This was a power play, he was trying to make her feel guilty and this was another reason why the marriage had failed.

So, being the higher person she texted him.

To Harry:

Hi. Why haven’t I heard from you? Where have you been?

Two seconds later, he responded.

From Harry:

Are you in labour?

To Harry:

No.

From Harry:

Then that doesn’t concern you.

He was being absolutely ridiculous. Childish even. This is not the way he should be acting. But, she did say that he needed to leave her alone and that she would contact him when she was in labour. She didn’t think he would literally do it. He was being childish.

To Harry:

You are being childish. Text me when you are ready to grow up.

He didn’t respond and she saw on social media that he was in L.A. partying with supermodels. Very mature of you, Styles.

A few days later, the pain hit. No note back from Harry and she was in labour. He could still be in L.A., partying his twenties away, however she didn’t care. She was in labour and was about to become a mother; a single mother, yet she didn’t care. Y/N mentally prepared for this part, knowing she was going to be by herself. Her mother was in another country and Mylene had to move back to Canada. It was going to be ok.

Y/N pressed the name that she didn’t want to talk to, however she needed to be the higher person.

Voicemail. She was hit with a voicemail. Wow.

Hi, its Harry. Couldn’t get to the phone, leave a voicemail and I will get back to you as soon as I can.

The line cut off.

She took a deep breath.

“Hi Harry, its Y/N. Call me back when you can. I am heading to the hospital, as I am in labour.”

Nothing. Nothing came back. She came to the realisation that he was going to miss the birth of his child, just like how he missed Y/N losing Tate.

She was on the hospital bed, taking deep breaths as pain raked her body. Fuck, this was horrible. Words can not explain the pain she was in right now. Yet, she needed to be strong.

The heavy huffs and loud groans were interrupted by her phone going off. Harry Styles - Y/N groaned again and not from the labour.

“Where the fuck are you?” she spat over the line.

“L.A.” She couldn’t believe it, she actually couldn’t believe it. This man was in America still, while she was growing this child inside her.

“Good on you. Are you flying back anytime soon, as I am in labour,” she spat again. He cleared his voice, hearing her heavy breaths and wheezes over the line.

“Umm, yeah, I will be there. my flight is leaving in three hours. I will be there in like, ten hours so please just don’t give birth yet,” he told her.

Y/N was gobsmacked. He really thought that she could put her whole birth on pause, just for him.

“I am crowning. I am pushing this child out whether or not you are here. I am not putting this on pause. Get your ass here,” she said firmly and pressing the end button.

Did she want him there holding her hand as she pushed a child out of her? A little piece of her did, but the majority of her was done with him. She had the forms next to her, filling out what custody was like and she was ready to move on. Was she selfish? She has no idea. However, the wellbeing of this child comes first.

Her legs were in the air, she pulled herself close to the bar as the doctor asked her to push. One push in and the door flew open. He was there.

“Fuck, you look rough,” he mumbled, looking at the scene in front of him. God, she prayed the child didn’t get his idiotism. He can’t be fucking serious.

“Hold my goddamn hand and tell me it is going to be ok because I am in a lot of pain,” she said, taking her one hand out and grabbing his. Harry pushed a chair beside her and held her. His bones were definitely getting broken due to her crushing them.

Arlo Rowan Styles was born. After fourteen hours in labour, he came and both parents were filled with joy.

She witnessed him cry, as he held him for the first time. He loved him so much, maybe more than how much Y/N loved him as well. Both parents forgot all the tension and worry when his cries filled the room and his body was laid on her chest.

He was absolutely beautiful with her eyes and his nose. Arlo’s little finger wrapped around his and he cried. He was perfect.

Harry may be an asshole to her, but the first few minutes of watching him interact with their child changed her perspective. They weren’t good together, but they needed to set their differences aside in order to be a parent to him.

“I may have overreacted,” she mumbled, as she watched him sleep. To Harry, she was still beautiful, dressed in her hospital gown, hair frizzy and in a mess and sweat dried on her face. “We need to set our issues aside. I am mad at you still for a lot of things. However, we need to be mature because of our baby. You can stay with us for a while until I kick you out or can come and go as you please. We aren’t getting back together, H. I am sorry, we aren’t good together. I have the custody agreement set up. He will need me for a while, but when he doesn’t as much, we can put something in place. Just don’t hover, be kind, don’t control me and please be the best goddamn dad. Ok?” he nodded, thumbing the baby’s cheek.

“I know that I have haven’t really been too good to you, but still love you, you know that right?”

“I know.”

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weeklyfangirl · 5 years ago

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Frat Boy Pt. 22

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20, part 21

Hope everyone is keeping themselves mentally/physically well... here’s the next update in your adventure. Please safely read from home ;)

The sun moved slowly up my window, illuminating the dancing dust in the air. Even though I knew dust didn’t have feelings, it all still looked very peaceful, suspended there in space.

I wanted to be suspended, floating, with no obligations or pressures.

Instead, I watched time slip by, slowly, as the shadows stretched along my floor and I lay still, wrapped in a giant Winnie-the-Pooh sheets burrito.

I called in sick the past three days to work and to all my classes, my lack of attendance probably dropping me a letter grade in a few classes. Instead of checking on my academic scholarship, I begged Renny to drop off Dr. Rhinecuff’s papers for me. She did, lamenting about how his office smelled like roast beef and how she probably needed a nose job from it shrivelling up from the stench. Tired, I sent her three hearts, ignoring all of her calls and voicemails.

In a random bout of restless energy, I looked up the University of Oxford in England. No one would know me there. And maybe that wasn’t a bad thing when you didn’t even know yourself. I stayed on their site for an hour, avoiding my take-home assignments, and speculating which classes I could take in the spring semester. My eyes grew tired though, and even if I were accepted as a transfer student, it wasn’t like I could ever afford it without scholarships.

I closed the computer.

It’d been cloudy, rainy. The random storm that’d come in from Mexico lasted longer than the usual morning fog that’d roll in and out by the time it was 9 AM. This storm lingered, heavy, full clouds looking to burst and unleash a steady rain for three to four hours before the clouds rested, storing up all they could until the next downpour.

My parents didn’t question me when I came in, used to my random visits. But when I went straight to my room without saying hello, rain-plastered hair covering puffy eyes, my mom basically collapsed at the sight.

She followed me to the bed, trying to see my face, but I buried it in the pillow, ignoring the way the purple fringe tickled my nose.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?”

I just groaned. Her voice was too gentle, too well-intending for the dark thoughts sitting in my mind. She’d be heartbroken if she heard them.

She huffed, not out of annoyance, but distress. “What’s bothering you?? Is it Renny? Did you breakup with Harry?” All those reasons were too simple. She ran her hands lightly along my legs, but I cringed away from her touch. It was something I rarely did. She paused. “You can tell me anything...”

I shook my head against the pillow, my last attempt to tell her to leave without speaking. She waited a moment longer.

“Okay,” she said. And that was it.

Father didn’t ask questions, not even when I was here for the third consecutive day. Mom had probably come to her own conclusions, and shared them with him.

“Mom said you aren’t feeling too well,” he said over cereal one morning, confirming my suspicions. It was the first time he’d broken our three-day spree of comfortable silence.

“What else did she tell you?”

He shrugged his shoulders, his usual buoyant self replaced with a quiet voice. He looked at me, and all I saw was pity. If I were him, I’d probably look at me the same way. I hadn’t showered in a while. “Well don’t let anything get you down. You’re too smart for that.”

He’d tried. He’d put in an effort. I just nodded, scooping up another spoonful of cereal. He followed suit.

And that was that.

A week passed like this.

But overnight, the clouds had blown away, and the sun came back full-force this morning just in time for the weekend, renewing my guilt. That traitor.

I’d cried all of Monday and Tuesday, but when the last tear was shed in the middle of a New Girl episode, I was empty. My tears didn’t leave anything to replace them with.

On Wednesday, a phone alarm reminded me I had a therapy appointment. I hit snooze multiple times. It was only when I got up to pee, and I hated what I saw in the mirror that I threw on an oversized sweater to go over my pajamas and headed out the door.

“Is it good?” I asked.

Her hands reviewed my wants list.

“That’s just a coffee stain on the corner..just...ignore that bit,” I added.

She surveyed it briefly, not really focusing on it. “Were you honest?”

I nodded.

“Then there isn’t good or bad. It’s just your truth.”

“But I still feel… I don’t know. I don’t think I know what that is. I don’t feel like I’m… progressing. Doing anything towards that,” I said.

She looked at me with a level gaze. “Then that’s your truth. And that’s okay for right now.”

I shot her a glance.

“I see a common struggle with people your age. They feel this��.” -She adjusted, quirking her head- “immense pressure to be perfect, to figure it all out, to achieve success so early.”

“Everyone’s doing it,” I began. “They’re getting internships, keeping up their grades, involved in ten clubs, doing community service…” I could’ve droned on, but didn’t.

“You have an internship, your grades are good, you’ve joined a sorority, and up until recently you’ve been involved in tutoring. Those are extracurriculars.”

I couldn’t argue with her.

“Is it too much?” she asked.

Too much. It was everything I’d been feeling until I’d felt nothing. But hearing her list off what was waiting for me just beyond her doors made me feel the weight of it all over again.

“I’ve just been overwhelmed.”

“Who have you been thinking about?”

She noticed I started picking my hangnail.

She started gently, knowingly. “Has it been Harry?”

“Ow,” I cursed. A bit of blood prickled up where the hangnail used to be.

“He seems to be a major stressor in your life. Would you agree?” The clock ticked behind her, filling the silence. Her hands rested in her lap, while mine swiped away the bit of blood. I could never remember my therapist’s name, but somehow it wasn’t important.

“Yeah, but … I mean …. there’s a lot of stressors.”

“Like his friends?”

His friends, in the abbreviated story I’d told her, stood in place for the gang. I’d used terms like … intimidating, mean, basically painting them as bullies who didn’t like us together. I wasn’t expecting to get much therapy from a lie. “Out of curiosity, if I were to tell you something… would you be obligated to report it to the police?”

“Not necessarily.” Her legs crossed, creased brows zeroing in with a laser focus. “Has something happened to you, Y/N?”

I swallowed hard, the truth lodged in my throat. But I had gotten too used to the weight of the secret. “I was just curious…” My mind raced to change the subject, and I blurted about Zayn’s art show.

“Do you think this panic attack was induced by this heightened sense of scrutiny from Harry’s friends?”

“Probably.”

“You said there were others. What are your main stressors?’

I settled in, more comfortable with this question. “There’s financial stressors, for one. And it’s exasperated here.”

“You’ve been dealing with financial difficulties for a while, now. Have you been feeling this anxious the entire time, or has it been recent?”

My foot tapped impatiently. We both knew the answer.

“Your panic attack was a first,” she explained, gently. “Some new factor in your life pushed you there.”

I picked at the hangnail, wincing. It was gone. My skin was raw.

“Maybe it all links back to Harry.” She waited a moment to see if I’d speak. When I didn’t, she leant back, and pulled out a new sheet of paper, scribbling something down. “I want you to write a pros and cons list about your relationship with him, for next time. When your feelings are overwhelming, it helps to get everything on paper. In a list. Puts things in perspective.”

I drove home, her words had pushed themselves into my empty shell and now they clinked around, jostling up my insides like a pinball machine and giving me a headache.

Just because I hadn’t left the house all week didn’t mean I didn’t feel guilty for ditching work. God, I did. It killed me. I knew I was lucky to get that internship. Harry had mentioned how people killed just to get on the waitlist, and I didn’t doubt it. An OC internship with, if not the top, at least the most publicized private practice? I mean, I was typing in appointments next to a Southern Stanford grad if that speaks to the competition here.

And here I was, retreating back to my house, too drained to face the world.

As for Harry, after what I’d said to him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t want to talk to me ever again.

I’d been so cruel.

I was weak.

I felt guilty for feeling this way at all.

And then I would watch the dust again.

It was a cycle.

About three blocks from my house on my way back from the therapist session, a familiar car passed me. It happened suddenly, unexpectedly, like most things do. We made eye contact before he passed, and my foot instantly lifted off the gas when my eyes connected with my brain. I whipped my head around but the matte black maserati sped up, disappearing from sight.

What was Harry doing this far from campus?

My heart beat erratically as I pulled into the driveway, and it was only seconds before I made it into the house. Father held up a hand in Grandpa’s old room. Phone call. Trudging silently to my own, I wrapped myself in a blanket burrito.

I’d been avoiding my phone, but I caved this time, checking J’s social media to see if he’d posted anything about being in the area to prove I WASN’T crazy and DIDN’T just hallucinate. Nothing. I tossed my phone on the other side of the room before I spiralled.

It didn’t matter. I was in my room. Alone. Safe. I focused on the dust.

Two little knocks disrupted my exciting mind game - which dust particle would fall further than the other.

“You’re turning ripe,” Father noted. His briefcase was still in his hand and he was coming startlingly close to my depression burrito.

“What are you doing-!?” I protested. But it was too late. He ripped the sheets off, exposing me in the t-shirt I’d been in since Monday. “Your mood won’t change if you don’t make an effort.

Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’re coming to the water with me.” He hesitated at the door. “Shower first.”

In the car, a sense of comfort washed over me. He’d been right. Clean wet hair smelled nice and felt good slicked around my head. Even if Mom would complain I’d “catch cold,” it felt good to feel something. Dad’s speakers switched between classic rock and reggaeton as I sipped on the chocolate shake we picked up from the Shake Shack. It was a short drive away to the harbor, and once parked, a shorter walk to the public docks.

Our feet dangled above the water. It was too cold to go swimming this time of year, but my body buzzed with yearning despite the goosebumps on my skin. I wanted to feel encompassed by salty water. I wanted to be submerged, where everything was muted, a barrier between me and the world. Between my wet hair and the icy shake, I could pretend my body was as cool as the water below me. I could just…. dissolve.

“So what’s going on?” he opened up the conversation. “You having a hard time at school?”

“I don’t like the sorority.”

His brows raised, not expecting me to be so honest so soon. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, don’t you hate that shit?”

I looked at him, almost shocked he’d agreed with me.

The boats squeaked as they rocked with the rolling tides coming in from the ocean. I watched as a duffy boat wandered to the end of the jetty - where the harbor opened to the ocean. I took another big gulp of my shake, feeling the cold run down, freezing my esophagus.

“I liked frats, but sororities are different,” he mumbled, spooning his shake into his mouth. He’d gotten his usual Neapolitan, and it’d somehow stayed solid on the drive over. We hadn’t been to the Shake Shack in years, but I guess seeing his daughter waste away beneath her comforter was enough to break the dry spell.

“Why? Because its girls?” My lips were breaking into a smile without my consent. He didn’t make sense.

“They’re more catty.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Dad! That’s verging on sexist.”

“Eh, I don’t know. I’m just saying things. Did you tell Mom you want to quit?”

I shook my head.

“Yeah…” he looked out at the boats, a quiet understanding passing between us. “She was really excited for you to join.”

“It’s not all bad…”

“Well if it’s not making you happy, don’t do it. Your mom doesn’t want you doing anything you don’t want to do. I was in a frat to shoot the shit with friends and it was something fun to do instead of study. If it’s not something fun for you, drop it.”

I could hear the words he was telling me, but it was like they were rolling off my shoulders, not really penetrating. He made it sound so easy, but it seemed like it was a million times harder than that. Everything was entangled, just as Harry had said. Not to mention Renny. If I quit, I felt like I’d lose her forever, too. I knew I could use a better friend, but that couldn’t erase the years of memories we had together. Losing Renny would feel like losing a part of myself. Not that I knew who that was anymore.

“Dad?” I asked. The question that'd weighed on my mind ever since I got home rested on the tip of my tongue.

“Yeah?”

“This is going to sound weird, but did you see Harry today?”

“Yeah. He stopped by,” he said, casually, spooning another mouthful.

I practically choked. “What? Why?! Weren’t you going to tell me?”

“Y/N, I’m working. I have a thousand things bouncing around in my head all the time.”

“And?!!?”

Harry couldn’t reach out to me beforehand? He drove by but- what? Didn’t even want to see me?

He sighed, not understanding the urgency. “He just stopped by, said hi. That’s all.”

My brows stitched. “Why would he say hi to you? What’d he say, exactly?”

“Oh, come on, I don’t know. I can’t remember-”

“Dad!”

“All right, all right. Hi, how are you…” -his brain tried to remember- “he asked if you were doing okay. Then he left. He was nearby for a family brunch or something.”

“He asked about me?”

“Yeah. I mean, he didn’t go on and on, he just asked a question. He was in a rush.”

The shake froze me from the inside, and the breeze froze me from the out. But while I shriveled into myself, my guilt grew. “Dad?”

He hummed.

“Why are people so fake?”

He looked out at the harbor, peaceful for a winter’s morning. Only one small fishing boat headed towards the harbor’s edge, the sole fisherman at the helm facing the wind with the grace of a husband dealing with a temperamental spouse.

Father looked to our shoes as a random swell came, the water rising perilously close to our soles. Then, with all the untapped wisdom I seldom remembered parents had, “People are fake because they don’t know who they are,” he said.

He got a call from the restaurant and drove us home.

In bed the next day, I ignored the pros/cons assignment, watching New Girl and making collages of Oxford in a word document until my eyes were burning from blue light exposure. I knew I was pushing it staying this long away from school, away from my problems. I was pushing myself, seeing how far my apathy could go. I woke up Thursday night at 2 AM from the rain pouring against my shutter and anger pricking my insides.

Harry was the reason I was in this position. As well as Viv, who fucked Harry. And Kiki, who gave me a DG Pretty Please, that just so happened to involve Harry.

I wanted him, but I wanted him to fuck off. Nothing was changing. Nothing was getting better.

It was all Harry, Harry, Harry, and no matter what, I ended up feeling insane.

At one point, I was going to have to choose myself.

I rolled over, blindly reaching for a pen, and scribbled in the dark.

If my therapist wanted a list, she’d get one helluva list.

-----------

“I’m glad you’re going, honey.” Mom released me from the lung-crushing hug.

I’d created enough Oxford collages and daydreamed about a new life until I couldn’t think of any other imaginary scenarios (or postpone collegiate life any longer).

The Friday sun had set. The game had already started. I thought about the crowd, all the people I’d see…

“Can I just stay the weekend?”

“Oh.” Her arms dropped from my sides. “Didn’t you promise your friends that you’d go?”

Renny. I’d promised Renny. Singular friend. My hand was in a fist, thumb rubbing anxiously over my fingers. I didn’t listen to her voicemails, there were seven of them. But she’d texted me fifty times in the past twenty minutes, declaring that she’d Venmo me gas money if I’d come to the game.

I’d been in my hole long enough.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Well, you COULD stay-”

I broke away, shaking my head. If I let her coddle me another minute, I think I’d crumble all over again.

“I love you,” she reminded me. “You’re my precious angel.”

From the living room, the muffled applause from the game show Father had fallen asleep to faded further as I left.

Momma’s robe-bundled frame waved on the driveway, her sad smile burning in my mind long after she disappeared from view.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Come on, come on, come ON.

The path to the stadium took forever. No shame, I was full-on running, braless, fresh pit-stains on display as I booked it to the gate.

It was completely dark now, and the usual fleet of cop cars seemed to have all but disappeared the week I’d been gone. Only one passed me by, and the rest of the student body probably all congregated around the stadium.

When I saw the art studio, I slowed. It was completely dark, except for one entry light. The paintings would still be displayed... My pounding heart told me to keep running, and I hesitated, listening to it for a moment before walking to the door. I tugged on its metal handles, parts of me seizing up as it opened, giving way to my touch.

I crept into the space, feeling like an intruder as I walked through the exhibit.

For some reason, I expected it to look differently, to see it blurred together as I’d seen it before in a panic.

I was still hanging amidst the vines, but this time the paintings looked less threatening. Maybe it was the fact that I was alone, maybe it was because I’d already felt the worst of it.

Each piece was sold.

I looked over my shoulder a couple times before letting out a small shout. A tester.

It echoed in the space.

I did it again, louder, at my full about-to-be-murdered capacity.

I must’ve looked absolutely mental, but as I heard my shout reverberate around me, at least I felt something.

Five charcoal sketches in particular ran horizontally together.

Lust / Longing / Love / Lost / Loss

Had he seen all of this in me? He’d certainly seen other bits I hadn’t shown him.

My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out. Renny. Without thought, I started her stream of voicemails.

Y/N where the FUCK are you!? Zayn’s concerned and I’m concerned and you’re not in the room-

Next.

Are you really sick? Or is this just some BS excuse. Or is this real and Harry gave you tonsilitis or something. I want to hear your voice. Ilyyyyy.

Next.

It’s meeeeee. Niall’s busy and you’re sick and I don’t know what to dooooo. Housewives isn’t as fun without-

Next.

BABE WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING ME CALLS DO YOU HATE ME, AND YES I MEANT TO SAY ME INSTEAD OF MY I HOPE YOU’RE LAUGHING-

Next.

DUDE. You will not believe what just happened- Harry just stopped by.

My thumb paused, letting it stay.

I was avoiding his texts because I think he’s a dick. Well, he IS a dick, even if Niall said he was going through a lot. It’s still not an excuse. But Harry LEGIT found me on campus, like not even when I was with Niall at the house, but at our APARTMENT...I-hold on. Ew, pastrami professor just passed me. What are the odds? OKAY BUT SERIOUSLY, I almost punched him when I opened the door because remember last time he basically told me off. But… I don’t know. It was different this time. He seemed… so concerned. Frazzled. I don’t even know the word to describe it. Ugh, if you were here you would be able to TELL ME what the word is. I miss you. Come back.

The voicemail rolled into the next.

I’m just pretending to talk on the phone right now because the boy I hooked up with last year is staring me THE FUCK down right now-

A creak in the pipes startled me, and the voicemail was all but forgotten.

My heart beat fast.

It was very, very quiet.

With one noise in the dark, the art pieces turned menacing. An oil painting in the corner of the room morphed into the Styles’ portrait. It wasn’t here. It couldn’t be here. I squinted, blinking through the dark. The portrait I thought I’d seen was just a painting of two silhouetted men facing each other. My heart still beat like I’d just ran a marathon though. I wasn’t about to be a part of the next horror movie “art comes alive.”

I booked it out faster than I came, answering Renny’s call on the way.

---------

“Thank fucking finally,” Renny huffed, leaning over Lynn to draw me in a hug.

“You didn’t miss much,” Lynn said, looking past me towards the game. I sat on Renny’s other side so she was in the middle, but when I looked at the scoreboard - Home, zero. Guest, two - I knew it was a done deal. Some people had already left, but half the stadium was still here, either hoping for a miraculous recovery or refusing to put their tails between their legs for pride’s sake. I noticed a group of parents in Chapman gear huddled together, waving their flags. No Mary or Lionel Styles in sight.

“How’s he been?” I asked. It’s like my head already knew where to turn, because as soon as I looked to the field, I found him. On the bench, elbows on his knees, head bent over.

“How’ve YOU been?” Renny asked. “I was seriously about to drive over to your house and check on you.”

Someone beat you to it. The thought was sour. For as much as Renny could claim her undying love for me, I was struggling to see the actions to support it. Everyone was disappointing.

“He’s been playing like shit,” Lynn answered.

“Brought back some...” His sentence died. Of all people, Zayn stood there, stopped, popcorn in hand. “Hey, Y/N.”

Felix stood behind Zayn, giving me a small wave. Zayn was clearly waiting for me to make the first move, but I turned away to the field. I didn’t know what to say.

From my peripheral, I saw them sit down by Lynn.

As soon as he did, it hit me like a flashfood. I knew what I was feeling. Anger. Discomfort. Shame. That he could expose me so easily, that he’d looked through my clothes in a way I never permitted. That he could sit down so comfortably without apologizing, as if nothing had happened.

Renny leaned in. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

She flinched at the abrupt answer. “Do you want to leave?”

I stopped myself from saying yes. I didn’t want to have to climb over Zayn to get out of here. That would be more than uncomfortable.

“No, I’ll tell you later.”

I didn’t speak the rest of the game, pretending not to hear him cheer or laugh or make a snide remark to Felix every other second. Like the annoying click of a fan when you’re trying to fall asleep, Zayn’s every move made anger shake my bones. Lynn gave me sympathy looks every once in a while. It wasn’t like me to be this quiet, and even with our friendship being as new as it was, she knew that much.

The crowd didn’t roar this time. They were silent as the clock hit zero, staring blatantly at its twin beneath Home. The Guest team’s few Minnesota supporters jumped like little beans on the other side of the field, but their cries were faint.

We’d lost.

Everyone stood, and Renny linked her arm with mine. A familiar habit. “We’re going to Viv’s for some post-game depression drinks now.”

But I stopped her.

“I think I want to go back to the room,” I winced.

“Come on, PLEASE? It’ll be fun, you were barely here for the game.”

“I don’t know, depression and Viv in the same sentence… You really know how to sell a party.”

“Aren’t you coming, Y/N?” Lynn made moves to follow the rest of the crowd that was funneling out of the stands.

I shook my head at the same time Renny nodded hers.

She huffed. “Why not? It’s going to be chill. We lost. It’s not going to be like the usual ragers.” She popped her hip, completely deadpanned. “You haven’t seen another college-aged person in a week.”

“Yeah and there’s a reason for that.”

Concern washed over her, voice lowering. “Tell me.”

As if on cue, Zayn and Felix stopped their descent down the bleachers and looked up at the girls, waiting for them to join. It was all I could do to not scream at them.

“Later,” I said. “You’re leaving now.”

“I don’t have to leave right now, it’s not starting yet...” Renny began, but Lynn gave her a look that said yes, they were leaving now.

“She wants us to help set-up,” Lynn explained.

“But it’s a small thing, right?” I teased Renny.

My bestie rolled her eyes, lips pinching. “Are you SURE?”

I nodded, sitting down on the cool metal bleacher again. Renny took a step towards me, a sad look on her face, but I held up my hand.

“I’m fine,” I said, when I felt anything but. “I just want to wait until the crowd leaves.” I picked up the popcorn bag she’d left behind and threw a handful in my mouth with a cheesy, hopefully convincing grin.

She grimaced, briefly looking back to Lynn who was anxiously waiting. “Fine. But we’re still talking about this later. I friggin miss you.”

She left with the others, funneling out towards a party she’d probably stay at until the early morning.

I didn’t want to go back to the room. I didn’t want to go anywhere.

The lights were so bright on soccer fields. Bugs flew in and around, racing each other faster than the dust in my room. It wasn’t until the janitors walked past me that I realized I’d been sitting there for too long. I reached in the popcorn bag, but my hand came up empty. They’d gone overboard on the salty butter, but somehow, I’d still managed to eat all of it.

Even with everyone off the field though, I didn’t feel alone. An older Hispanic woman taking out the trash saw me walking down and opened up the bag.

“Thank you,” I said, smiling.

She just smiled in return, nodding her head as she continued down the aisle.

Leaving the field’s gates, I was prepping for another mini run-for-my-life-and-back-to-the-dorm anxiety episode, when I heard someone shuffling. There were faint groaning noises, and I sped up my pace.

For a flash second, I thought someone was winning the “sleep in the locker room” bet, but when I tossed my head-back mid-run, I stopped so quickly, I almost tripped.

“Harry?”

There, in the dark, barely concealed by the shadows, he stumbled out. His abdomen looked… glossy? But then the light reflected crimson.

I ran to him as he fell, his white jersey stained with blood. “Oh my God, oh my God…” I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “What happened?! Are you okay!?”

He pushed me back. “M’fine.” But his voice was strained. He stumbled again, and I reached out before he fell.

I thought the blood from his shirt had fallen from a bloody nose, but his hand moved to my arm in a vice-like grip, revealing a gash in his jersey, I saw more liquid pool out from his gut and I almost gagged.

“You are BEYOND fine. You aren’t fucking fine!!”

“We have to leave. Have to… get out of here.” He grimaced. His face, his beautifully chiselled face was swollen on one side, his lip cut from impact.

“Okay. OKAY. I need to call the cops. The cops. I’m going to call them.” Shaky hands took out the cellphone, but he threw it down. “HARRY!”

“Take me to the physical therapy room?”

I looked at his chest. “You’re bleeding. A LOT.” My free arm reached for the tossed phone, but he tugged me back.

“No. They’ll write a report. I can’t have a-” he winced, sucking in a breath, and I reached for the phone again. “DON’T. Fucking hell. Don’t call anyone.”

My eyes racked his frame again, and I immediately applied pressure to his ab area, right where the gash was. He sucked in a breath, unleashing a string of curses I couldn’t hear right now. “Oh my God,” I breathed.

“Answer me,” he growled.

My mind scrambled for his question… he wanted me to take him to the physical therapy room. “YES! Yes. I have the- fuck, yes, I know where the keys are.” I looked at him again. What the FUCK.

“Stop freaking out,” he grunted, but he weakened the next second, his eyes fluttering before coming back to me.

“Okay, hold on. Hold onto me. Keep applying pressure.”

The physical therapy room wasn’t too far, bits of blood that’d fallen to his shoes marking our path.

“Why aren’t all the cops here?”

“They’re on rotation. The parties... they’llbestationedthere-JESUS.” We paused, letting him catch his breath. But it was shallow. Too shallow.

“Can you wait here for a second?” I asked.

He nodded, resting against a lamp post.

I hurried to the lockbox located behind the planter, punching in the code and unlocking it at lightning’s speed.

I didn’t know if there were cameras. I didn’t know if this was illegal.

I didn’t care.

We made it through the doors, and he was just about to sit on the table when-

“WAIT!” I ran to grab several rags and laid it beneath him before heaving him up. The soft cry he made when sitting down was like a knife through my own chest.

I grabbed scissors, cutting his t-shirt. I didn’t have time to linger, I didn’t have time to notice the way his tattoos were completely concealed by a red current. There were two wounds. One, deeper, the other, more shallow. Both in the lower left abdomen, just above a prominent v-line.

I wiped around the area, pausing above the gashes. “This is going to sting,” I warned.

There wasn’t fear in his eyes. He watched me, and I, him, as I pressed it against the open skin. He trembled, wincing, mouth opening in silent exclamation.

“You’re doing good,” I whispered.

“So are you,” he gritted out.

I swallowed, reaching for the butterfly bandages. But as soon as I did, more blood rushed out. I held a rag to him. “Save your breath. You need it.”

The thin white bandages seemed too little in the wake of his wound, and just as one bandage was placed, he cringed away, regretting his decision to move almost immediately.

“Fucking hurts,” he groaned.

“Stop moving! I need to close the wound up. You’re bleeding too much.”

“Y/N, just take me home. Call Lionel,” he panted.

“I’m calling 911 if you don’t let me at least attempt to close this wound because if we leave now you’ll bleed out.”

“You’ve done enough, please-”

“STOP. TALKING. I’ll call him after.” He saw a flame behind my eyes, and quieted, too weak to protest much more anyway. I came closer, and this time he didn’t flinch. The butterfly bandages at least minimally shrunk the open gouges.

With no other choice, I left him there alone, running across campus to my car and driving back in less than five minutes. It was illegal to drive through student walkways, let alone drive 60 mph, but there wasn’t a choice. I kept picturing Harry passing out, his limp God-like body, turned mortal, weak, bleeding out all over the training room floor. My foot hit the gas pedal harder. I could’ve been a damn marathon winner/race car driver. Let the cops add “speeding” to the file they already had on me.

Once we were both in the car, I looked over at him every two seconds. An entire roll of tight gauze around his abdomen kept the wound from bleeding out, but it was still turning pink. It was the second time blood would have been on my car.

Of all the revenge daydreams I’d had, I would’ve settled for Harry seeing me make out with Andre on the dancefloor over THIS. Would he die in my car? Would I be responsible?? I looked at the cheesy Angel pin my mom had given me for my car mirror. Never Fly Faster Than Your Guardian Angel Can Fly. Where was my angel now??

“Where are we going?” He asked, between fading in and out.

“To your house.”

His hand grabbed mine on the wheel and I practically swerved into the center divider from shock.

“HARRY!”

“We need to go to my house,” he said suddenly, panicked, as if I’d told him the opposite.

I placed our interlocked hands above the console. A safe distance away from the wheel in case he lurched again.

“Don’t worry, we’re going there. We’re going to your house. You’re just in shock, it’s okay,” I cooed, but it was desperate. And it was definitely not okay.

“They’ll ask… less..less questions...”

His grip was unbearably tight for three long seconds before it relaxed.

“Stay with me. Stay awake,” I urged. Harry’s lids kept drooping and I was desperate, blasting the Air Conditioning to an uncomfortable temperature.

Lionel picked up on the second ring.

“It’s Y/N. I think Harry’s been stabbed-”

“What?!”

“- I told him we should call the cops, but he was adamant we call you instead.”

“Seal the wound with whatever you can-”

“I did that. Not well, we didn’t have wound sealant- Okay, I’m rambling. I don’t know what to do, but he needs to see a doctor. Immediately.”

There was a long pause.

“Hello?” my voice wavered.

“Bring him to the practice.” The voice over the other line was that of a doctor, matter-of-fact, somber.

Hoag Hospital passed me, a nagging thought telling me that’s where we should be going - where there was paperwork, evidence, some legitimate accountability. But I wasn’t his father. I wasn’t responsible.

“On my way. I’m getting off the freeway now.”

The call ended, and as I looked at Harry, fading dangerously out of consciousness, my hands trembled more from fear than cold. Out of all the reactions, I hadn’t expected this one. The voice on the other line hadn’t seemed surprised at all.

come talk to me about the chappie or just about how you’re doing! now’s the time to stay connected :)

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niall-the-churchboy · 5 years ago

Text

The World Just Wants Us to Have Babies ~ Niall Horan

In which they are spotted with Louis’ son and the world wants them to have babies.

----------------------------------------

“Come ‘ere, baby”, Y/n coos at little Freddy, kneeling to the ground as she opens her arms. The one-and-a-half years old leaves Niall’s side and walks happily towards Y/n. She cheers as the little one finally reaches her hands and she embraces him sweetly, kissing his head before lifting him up. “And for me?”, Niall asks sheepishly, a grin on his lips.

She looks at the baby boy inquisitively, “What do you think, Freddy? Should he get a kiss as well?” Freddy nods at Y/n and she laughs, walking closer to Niall and pecking his lips once, “Hi”.

“Hi, beautiful”, Niall whispers on her ear --a giggle escaping her lips-- before placing his hand on her back and beginning to walk again, Y/n still holding the little baby on her hip.

The day shines bright and they quickly decide for a small aesthetic restaurant, asking the waiter to sit outside. “Are you hungry, Freddy?”, Y/n asks the baby who’s siting on the highchair. This one nods, mumbling a few short words characteristic from young toddlers. “How was Louis?”, she asks, this time to her husband.

The day had started with smoochy kisses in bed, a call from Louis to remind them that they had promised to take care of Freddy given that he has busy meetings all day. Y/n had parted ways with her husband, him going to look for young Freddy at Louis’ house as she finished some work formalities, arranging to meet for lunch.

Y/n looks at Niall, her heart bursting from happiness as he smiles at her, reaching for the girl’s hand. “I love you”, he mouths. “I love you more”.

Niall had come into her life unexpectedly, like an angel falling from the sky. At the moment, Y/n had just finished Law school, and things were not going quite well. She had landed a horrible job, of course she couldn't complain --Y/n wasn’t expecting something huge either--, but the amount of work she was given comparing to how little she was paid made her stress. She barely had money to pay her rent!

Y/n remembers the day as if it had been yesterday, it was raining --really raining--, and she felt less of a human being and more as a dead body she had to carry around. Y/n had worked her ass off, rearranging papers and gathering information of patients, made a small report of why this and why that, all that insufferable boring work just to be taken away the credit, her co-worker exclaiming he had done most of the work. And he had not! He had stayed in a corner watching stupid tv with a cup of coffee in his hand while Y/n did all the dirty work. Worst of all, this hadn't been the first time.

So she went to her bosses office, explaining what had happened. Unsurely so, her work position was lower than her co-worker and he is a male. Y/n’s boss claimed she was asking too much -- as if she had ever asked something-- and fired her. Just like that.

So then she was walking in the rain, carrying in a cardboard box her few things, and with no money in her bag. Y/n was crying, because then again who would not?, her hair was damped and her make-up ruined. But then pam!, all her things fell onto the pavement as she bumped into a strong muscular front. “Oh, I’m so sorry-”, just a look in her eyes and Niall grew incredibly curious. The rest is history.

Niall brings Y/n’s hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss that makes Freddy laugh sweetly. Y/n and Niall have been married for almost two years now, a beautiful ceremony where the other four members of the band had been best-men. And fans were crazy--guards everywhere around the church-- but then again, their life is like this every single day given that Y/n and Niall are ‘LA’s cutest couple’.

“Louis is fine--stressed-- but who isn’t?”, he replies to her last question. Y/n nods, agreeing to his statement. “What should he eat?”, Niall asks her glancing at the baby, “the same from last time?”

(...)

Y/n sighs, plopping on the couch next to Niall after being able to put Freddy to sleep. “‘M tired”, the light-haired announces resting his head on his wife’s lap. Y/n gently brushes his hair, a hum escaping his lips before she checks her phone.

‘LA’s cutest couple spotted with @LouisTomlinson’s son. Could they honestly be any cuter?’ a tweet from a magazine page reads above a series of pictures of their midday. One with Freddy on Y/n’s hip, another one pecking Niall’s lips as Freddy watches them, one where Niall is placing a plastic fork with a small piece of meat on Freddy’s mouth, and so on.

‘They are so freaking cute!’, a fan coments.

‘Can’t wait for @Y/T/N to be pregnant! Please, @NiallHoran get her pregnant!’

‘What if @Y/T/N is already pregnant?’

‘@Y/T/N and @NiallHoran get to business!’

Y/n scrolls through the tweets, eventually chuckling. Niall stirs, “What’s so funny?”, he asks. She leans her head and places a soft tender kiss on his lips, “‘S nothing. The world just wants us to have babies.”

#niall horan #one direction #one direction imagines #one direction fanfiction #one direction one shot #one direction blurbs #one direction fluff #one direction fandom #one direction preferences #1d #1direction #1d fandom #harry styles #louis tomlinson #liam payne #zayn malik

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onedblogging · 4 years ago

Text

Daddy Direction Pt. 4 (Liam Payne Imagine)

Pairing: Liam Payne X Reader

Words: 2k (oops)

Requested: yes, @britishstan asked for a fourth part (sorry this turned out a little different, honestly unintentionally)

Summary: It's a few months later and you can't keep getting paid by your boyfriend, so you quit as their babysitter

A/N: yes, yes I know this took forever but I am alive and just busy

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Time runs when you're having a good time right? It certainly has for you. The last six months flew by too quickly and now you were stuck at a cross road.

For the past six months you had been seeing Liam and babysitting Bear whenever they needed you. Lately however the thing between you and Liam became more serious and being their babysitter was feeling weird.

You pulled out your keyring and fumbled for a moment to find the right one. A mess of things were scattered across the entrance hall when you entered the house. "Liam? Bear? I'm here", you shouted into the house while neatly hanging your jacket away. You picked up the shoes that were tossed in front of you and placed them in the rack next to you. "There you are", Liam yelled back cheerfully, sliding into the room on his socks. Bear was giggling in his arms and stretched out his own to you as they came closer. "Hey bud", you grinned and lifted Bear from his dad's arms. His giggle got louder as you playfully poked his side. "Can I get a 'Hey bud'?", Liam asked and placed his arm around your waist. "I don't know, how about no", you chuckled, but quickly pressed your lips against his. His lips turned into a smile before pulling you a little closer.

Bear wiggled in your arm, pushing against Liam's chest. "Okay, I get it", he chuckled against your lips and let go of you, "She's yours now". You shook your head at his remark, laughing to yourself. "What happened here anyway, did you drop a bomb?", you motioned to the jackets and other things thrown on the ground. "Somebody was fussy yesterday evening, because he was tired but didn't want to take his afternoon nap. Then he had to throw a tantrum didn't he?", Liam bend down and pointed towards Bear, who quickly hid his face in your side. "And daddy was too busy to clean up?", you asked. "Tired, too tired", Liam exclaimed.

With Bear's help you had quickly cleaned up the place shortly after Liam had left. He wouldn't be gone for too long but Cheryl couldn't come pick up the little man for the day. You loved watching him growing up, even if half a year wasn't that long of a time. He learned new words and skills every week. He sat on the living room rug, loudly singing along to some themesong of a cartoon. It was scary how much he already reminded you of Liam in some moments, especially when he was enthusiastically performing children songs.

The afternoon went by almost too quickly, Bear was his easy self and you barely had to do anything. You had even started to do the laundry in the meantime, something you also benefitted from. It wasn't like you weren't actively borrowing some of Liam's clothes.

You had just placed the last shirts into the dresser, Bear happily playing with a toy beside you when you heard the front door open again. Your ears peaked up, Liam wasn't supposed to be home before Cheryl had gotten here and she wasn't supposed to get there for another hour.

"Li?", you yelled down the stair before picking Bear up and marching down them. "I'm back", he shouted back. "What are you doing back already?" Bear struggled in your arms to get down as you greeted Liam. "The appointment got cancelled last second, literally last second", he rolled his eyes and picked up his son from your arms. "Is Cheryl still gonna come pick Bear up?" You watched your boyfriend interact with his son in the cutest way. "Yeah, I thought it be nice to finally have a night for just us two", he grinned at you and wiggled his eyebrow. An involuntary giggle escaped you as you thought about all the things you hadn't done in so long.

"Cheryl should be here soon right?", you asked and pushed Liam against the counter in the kitchen. The little one was playing on the hallway rug, happily blabbering to himself. Liam hummed in response, pulling you closer. Your lips worked their way along his jawline and you couldn't wait to finally be alone with Liam. "Missed this huh?", he teased you. "Shut up", you laughed and pushed yourself off of him. Bear was still there and you felt uncomfortable to make out with Liam just there in his view.

"Daddy", just as you thought about him he came waddling up to you two. Bear was holding up a somewhat broken toy, the tires had fallen off the toy truck and the attenna was missing. "Oh what's this, it's broken?", Liam asked his son and bent down. "Good thing Y/N is here-", he turned Bear towards you and pointed in your direction, "-the babysitter's here to fix it".

While your hand grabbed the toy and began to automatically attach the tires again you couldn't concentrate on it. Something about Liam calling you the babysitter, especially when he was kissing you just a few moments earlier, was rubbing you the wrong way. Your relationship had progressed quite a lot and it had begun to feel weird still being the babysitter. You hadn't really brought it up with Liam yet, but you felt like it was becoming a more pressing issue.

"It's all fixed again", you smiled at Bear and gave him back the toy. You didn't have time to finish stroking his hair before he had slipped underneath your arm and back into the hallway.

"Liam?" He turned away from watching his son and towards you. "Why did you say that?", you couldn't bite your tongue on this now, you had to know. "What? The babysitter thing?" Liam stepped towards you, raising an eyebrow. He raised the second eyebrow when you responded with a nod. "I mean it's true, isn't it? You're his babysitter", he responded bemused. The scoff you let out was paired with a deep roll of your eyes. "Still... Do you have to do that? I'll gladly help him as your girlfriend." "Oh C'mon Y/N, it's not that deep", Liam tried to brush it off. "What if it is?", you stared at him, a stern expression on your face. He sighed but stayed seemingly unbothered by your small outburst. He turned around, reaching for the fridge and getting a drink out of it. "Can we talk about this some other time, I don't want Bear to hear us argue", he asked you.

"God Liam we have to discuss this", you rolled your eyes again. "Why? It's working like this isn't it", he exhaled and rested his arms on the kitchen island. There was defeat in his eyes and you knew that this was happening right now. "No it is not", you clenched your fist and took a deep breath, "It's so weird for me. I get paid by the ex-girlfriend of the man I kinda love and him for watching their child." "Kinda love?", he raised an eyebrow at you. "that's what you focus on? Fine I love you, I just thought you didn't want to take this so fast", your voice was a bit shaky. "I wanna take it as fast as it feels right,", Liam pushed away from the island and moved around it, standing across from you. "I think I love you too but I still don't know why this is weird to you". "Oh and thinking you love me is better than 'Kinda love'", you scoffed at him and stood up. "Liam, number one, I don't like getting paid by the man I love-", your frustration showed through "- second, I don't want to take Bear away from Cheryl because of how much I am around him" You exhaled deeply.

"While we're talking about her, here she is" Liam turned to the door that went into the entrance hall. Not a minute later Cheryl walked through the front door, her car parked right next to your one. Liam had undoubtedly seen her pull into the drive way, he was facing the window all along. "we're in the kitchen", he yelled out to her, leading her to join you in the room. "Hey" she greeted you both sheepishly. "Hi", you muttered, figuring out if you should say something or not. "Tell me, is it weird for you that Y/N and I are dating when she is babysitting Bear?". Liam was as blunt as ever, getting right to the point. Cheryl looked confused for a moment, dumbfounded almost, before she gathered her words. "It's a bit strange but it's worth it right? Bear has never been more comfortable with any sitter", she uttered. "I can be fine with it, it's a thing between you two", she added quickly. You agreed, it was something you had to discuss with Liam alone. Before any of you could add something to the conversation Bear's screams were heard. "I'm gonna get him" The chair squeaked as you quickly got up and walked out of the room.

It took you less than ten minutes to get Bear ready to go. You carried him down the stairs again and passed him to Cheryl. "How's my baby boy?", she cooed at him and poked his side. "I'll put his bag in your car", you muttered and left the room once again. Her car was unlocked and so you put away the bag you had packed for Bear, Cheryl following behind. Not another ten minutes later they had left and now you had no other choice but to talk to Liam.

You cleared your throat when you walked back into the kitchen, Liam was sitting at the table, head in his hands. He looked up, shooting you a quick smile. "I quit Liam", the sentence just blurted out of you. Liams face quickly changed to confusion, getting slowly out of his seat. "What?" "You heard me, I quit as you babysitter", you repeated your point. "What? I don't...no...you can't", Liam stammered. "I'm sorry but it's the only thing that's right for me" Your voice was smaller as you approached your boyfriend. "I love you but I can't keep doing this" You rested your hand on his arm, squeezing his muscles lightly. "Why?", he asked you, desperation in his tone. "Liam-", you paused for a moment, "- I love you and if we want to continue this relationship, my god if we want to move forward I can't work for you, I can't get paid by you. I don't like it". Liam was listening intently, waiting for you to continue. "I am finishing my education, I am slowly looking to get a different job.". You hadn't told anyone yet and even though you loved babysitting and probably wouldn't stop all together. However pursuing a job in the field that you had spent the last few years studying for was a big dream and it was suddenly so close. "I love you Y/N, you know that. I just want what's best for you", Liam interrupted your thoughts. "I can help you guys find a new sitter, I have connections you know", you already had spoken to a few of your colleagues. It felt like your responsibility to find a good replacement, one that Bear would feel just as comfortable with. "You probably won't even need someone as often anymore. I mean I will still be here and can look after him then and there are some daycare center options too", you rambled on and on. Only Liam pulling you in and wrapping his arms around you stopped you. "Y/N, hun, I love you", he pressed a kiss on your nose, "We will do whatever is best for you. I'll support you in every way." A smile formed on your face and you nuzzled your face into his chest, soaking in his so familiar scent. "Thank you", you mumbled into his chest. Another kiss was placed on your head and his arms tighten around you. "One condition though, if I can't pay you anymore you must let me spoil you from now on".

#Liam payne #liam payne x reader #liam payne preference #liam payne imagine #solo 1d #1direction #1d #1d imagine #one direction imagine #one direction preference #one direction #harry styles #harry styles imagine #louis tomlinson imagine #louis tomlinson #niall horan imagine #niall horan

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osterfieldshollandgirl · 4 years ago

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Happy 10 Year Anniversary Directioners!!!!

Today is a monumental day, ten years have passed by so fast for us loyal fans. I can remember the day that I became a fan and started my love for their music and beings. This band brought so much joy to me that the memories that I have will always be remembered. I am so appreciative of them that they were them goofy and loving selves. Thank you for being the best 10 years of my life.

@fancyxholland @osterfieldnholland @petersholland @parkerpeter24

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sunsetzicons · 5 years ago

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Harry Styles for The Face lockscreens.

like and reblog if you save it.

#harry headers #harry icons #harry #model harry #louis and harry #harry styles #liam payne #louis tomlinson #lockscreen #larry fic #larry stylinson #niall horan #zayn malik #one direction #1d preferences #1d imagines #1direction #1d

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1d1195 · 3 years ago

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Confetti

Disclaimer: I have no idea how trains work.

You booked the night train for a reason / So you could sit there in this hurt / Bustling crowds or silent sleepers / You're not sure which is worse

The glasses covering his eyes felt like a hundred-pound weight on the bridge of his nose. He sniffed—no one noticed. He had to keep it together. Just for a little while longer. Just a few more minutes until he got to the train car.

“Fuck,” he inhaled sharply and fortunately, no one noticed again. It was almost enough to have a breakdown right there, in public. In front of everyone. There was no way on this earth he’d be able to board this train if there were no other seats. The idea of complete solitude was the only thread he could keep tied around his heart before he lost it.

This line was endless, and he thought he really might die right then and there. There was only one person in front of him and of course it felt like they were taking the longest of all the people he waited behind these last twenty-three minutes. “Next,” the cashier said, finally. He hoisted his bag onto his shoulder and sulked forward to the counter.

“I’ve got a reservation,” he murmured quietly and held out his ticket. “Um...” he said as the cashier looked it over.

“This is a reservation for...two?” She trailed off as she glanced back up to look at Harry. Immediately, her face paled. She reread the name again and winced. He knew in that moment she knew as well that he didn’t want to have the honeymoon train car.

The lump in Harry’s throat felt stationary. He’s not sure how he managed to utter his next sentence. “Is there ‘nother spot?”

She clicked into the computer and tapped a few keys. She pursed her lips and sighed. “Nothing private.”

Harry closed his eyes and summoned all his strength to take a deep breath. It would have to do—maybe the other passenger would already be asleep. He could cry to the moon in the window and manage himself. “Okay,” he said finally. “How much?”

She glanced at the line behind Harry and while she didn’t tell him, she noticed a lovely couple meandering toward the line with huge smiles and nothing but love in their eyes. “It’s okay,” she said. It’s the least I can do. She thought. “I’ll upgrade someone else. I’m sorry I don’t have a better offer,” she nodded sullenly. She meant it too. Poor thing. She thought.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered. He snagged his ticket from her and felt as if he was sprinting for the car indicated on the ticket. Just a few more steps. Except not completely because he couldn’t possibly have the breakdown that he was destined to have in front of whoever the other guest was—maybe he should turn around.

“Oh my God,” someone gasped. There went his turn around plan.

“Fuck,” he kept his eyes down and hurried further down the train. He could hear people following. He could see flashes in his peripherals. Fuck, fuck, fuck he thought. This wasn’t good. Privacy wasn’t possible and he wasn’t thinking. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be happy and bubbly. He wouldn’t have minded the flashes and the following. This was the happiest day of his life. It was the beginning of the rest of his life—what was a few pictures and autographs when you had forever?

If I pretend not to notice. Not to hear. He wished he hadn’t rushed out and thought for a moment longer about the consequences of boarding this train alone. Where is this car?!

He tightened his jaw and tears were spilling down his cheeks. There was no way he was going to make it peacefully to his train car. The noise behind him was getting more raucous and his chest was heaving. It felt like a brick was right where his heart should be. He sniffed again and this time he was sure everyone knew.

Practically bursting into the train car. He threw his stuff in the middle of the floor and tried his best to shut the door. “Sorry,” he muttered and turned his face away from the cameras, but they weren’t moving. He could hear them saying what big fans they were. Security would have been nice right now. Of course, he wasn’t thinking when he made his way to the station. Then again, how could he? His brain was as much mush as his heart was. He needed out as fast as possible and this was the result. He could feel the tears falling faster, words weren’t coming, and he felt helpless. People wanted his attention. His love. His autograph. What was he going to do? This was somehow his second worst idea that day.

Why won’t this door shut?

“HEY!” Someone shouted. The car was suddenly silent and even Harry forgot he was sad as he tried to pinpoint the sound. “This is private car! Get the fuck out!” He was pushed out of the way; the door was slammed shut and the curtains were drawn.

He melted. There was no way to hide it. He was on his knees for the second time that day—this time sobbing into his hands with no hope in his heart.

She was working on a crossword puzzle when she could hear the steady uprising of sound coming closer. Glancing at the door of the car, she thought nothing of it. Must have been a school group or a bachelorette party. Who knew? She continued reading the clues and peered out the window at the landscape stretched out in front of her. The setting sun was painting purples, pinks, and oranges across the barren winter landscape. It was beautiful. Cold weather and a train. What more could you want? She thought.

She was yanked away from her ogling as she realized the commotion was in her car. It was not a school group and not a bachelorette party. It was gaggle of Harry Styles fans trying to shove their way into her tiny private car and Harry Styles himself trying to keep them out. Without thinking she sprung to her feet and shoved Harry away from the door and yelled in her best teacher voice for everyone to fucking leave.

As she pulled the curtains over the windows glaring at the remaining fans that were doing their best to peer in, she made sure all the windows were covered. Not a millimeter of view from the outside.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to the new noise in the train car: the sound of utter dismay—turmoil. She’d heard it once or twice before. The pain wracked her body as if it had happened this morning. She was kneeling beside Harry and gently coaxed him to the more comfortable seat near the window. Through his sobs she heard the conductor announce they were departing the station. She tossed her suitcase onto the floor and unzipped the outer pocket to produce her travel sized tissue packages. She pulled the plastic off roughly and placed them in Harry’s hand.

She did her best to remain as cool as possible. Naturally, between the teacher voice and the preparedness, she had to take care of him first. But she wasn’t immune. He was Harry. This beautiful creature who made her heart smile every time he did. Except he wasn’t even close to smiling. Maybe that’s why it was easy for her to focus on the empathy—the caring.

It felt so wrong to see him like this. Why was he like this? She was setting her bag back to it’s place as she thought back to the most recent article, she had read about him. What was it? Of course, there was a tour, but he was between legs—the holidays? he was spending time with his family and—

Oh.

Pull it together! He was shouting in his brain. This poor, lovely thing was seated across from him staring at him as she tried to figure out what to do. He was being ridiculous. He shouldn’t have gotten on the train.

“I’m—” he broke off into another sob.

She shook her head as his eyes shimmered with more tears. She was so blurry looking. He pulled the tissues out she gave him. He wiped his eyes, blew his nose. “Shh...” she said flipping her hand at him. “Just...” she looked just a little awkward. “Let it all out,” she said finally. If his heart wasn’t already shattered, it would have broken right there onto the train floor between them. This was so bad, but one little break would work. So, he sobbed.

Because I dropped your hand while dancing / Left you out there standing / Crestfallen on the landing / Champagne problems / Your mom's ring in your pocket / My picture in your wallet / Your heart was glass, I dropped it / Champagne problems

“What?” She smiled at him with a giggle. She was breathtaking. His favorite thing. He couldn’t believe he was with her. It felt so perfect. Her hand in his, close to his heart. The other hand was rested on his shoulder while his laid rest on her lower back.

He shook his head, a knowing joke in the back of his eyes as he smiled back at her. “I love you,” he shrugged and placed a warm kiss on her temple as he pulled her close. She giggled again and settled into his chest. The room was quiet. Their two families were gathered for a function—the planning had taken a lot of work and he was fortunate to have his mom and Gemma to help so much. The only ones that remained in the room were him, her, and a few stragglers from the event not involved in the party planning.

His heart started pounding as he thought of the excitement the next few hours would bring. The smiles, the champagne, the beautiful train ride for two to celebrate.

“You okay, love?” She wondered glancing up at him.

“Yes’m,” he murmured. “Why?”

She pulled her hand from his shoulder and rested it over his chest. “Sounds like a stampede in there.”

He grinned. “M’excited!” He said delightedly.

“Why’s that?” She wondered with a smirk.

Now or never. He thought.

“You look stunning,” he said quietly. She blushed.

“Thank you,” she whispered and ducked her head shyly.

“You always do,” he said and twirled her under his arm and then back into his embrace. “I adore you.” The blush on her cheeks remained as he took a deep breath thinking about the speech he’d been preparing for months. “You’re m’favorite person I’ve ever known. I can’t imagine life without you. I spend every moment thinking about you and every moment in between.”

“Harry,” she said her lips parting.

He knelt and pulled the velvet box from his pocket in one swift movement. The smoothest he’s ever been and all he could hope for in the special moment. He took a deep breath absorbing this moment. He didn’t want to forget a single thing, everything in his peripheral, all the colors, the sounds, the smells.

“I want t’spend the rest of m’life with you,” he said holding his mom’s ring out to her. “Will you marry me?” He said and smiled brightly at her while she stared back at him, her lips parted, her long dress cascading off her like a wedding dress.

“N-no,” she breathed.

The smile on Harry’s face, literally melted off. He was sure. It slid straight from under his nose right to the floor. His heart started to pound. Surely, he misheard her. “Wh-”

“Harry,” she gasped. “I’m so sorry...no.” She repeated, stronger. He snapped the box shut and got onto his feet. She stepped back a few paces.

“What do you mean no?” He felt like he was gasping for air.

“I don’t want to be married,” she said and stared at him as he was wild looking. He knows he was. But he was floored.

“Oh.”

The silence was deafening. “Harry, I—”

“I have to go,” he said, and his muscles felt like Jell-o. His legs were somehow carrying him, but he had no control. He swiped at his eyes to find tears there. He was rushing. Rushing, rushing, rushing. Ignoring her voice. That beautiful voice. His everything. His reason for being. Running up the steps. He tripped, finally, on the landing of the staircase. He braced himself for a moment. The box in his pocket burning his thigh. He pulled it back out, looked at it. The ring glittering and mocking him with such happy twinkles in the light. His chest was burning too. He yanked his wallet out of his coat pocket. It burned his fingertips. Where is it? Tears blurred his vision as he fumbled to open it with the ring box still in his hand.

Between his fingers was the first picture of them. He and her attended one of her college festivities. A photobooth picture. He kissed her cheek while she wrinkled her cute little nose at the camera.

He crumpled it. His palm burning. All that time. How could I not know?

He glanced at the door just eight stairs above him. On the other side aw aited his family and friends anxiously itching to celebrate the engagement that would never be. His sister was planning to splash him with champagne.

He couldn’t imagine. He bolted down the steps again and straight to the taxi stand waiting outside. While he waited, he pulled out his phone to text Gemma, but he was shaking so violently he dropped his phone straight into the sewer grate. All the better. He thought.

His car was waiting for him. The driver was told two people and several hours later. “Uh...”

“Train station, please,” Harry begged and slammed the door shut as he situated himself inside. His bags were packed and in the back waiting for him and his fiancée that would never be.

The driver pulled out into traffic and Harry watched the small frame disappear in the rear view mirror as the tears started to descend. You told your family for a reason / You couldn't keep it in Your sister splashed out on the bottle Now no one's celebrating / Dom Pérignon, you brought it / No crowd of friends applauded / Your hometown skeptics called it / Champagne problems / You had a speech, you're speechless / Love slipped beyond your reaches / And I couldn't give a reason / Champagne problems

There was a knock at their door. She put on her best teacher face. Her angry one. The one that scared her scary teenage students into silence. She cracked the door. But it wasn’t fans. It was just the waitstaff. She immediately turned off the attitude. “I’m so sorry—I thought you were someone else,” she admitted with a warm smile. He smiled back politely.

“Can I get anything for the two of you?” He asked marking their door with two tickets.

She glanced back into the car, Harry was staring at his hands and the sobs turned into sniffles. His head must have been aching. She turned back. “Two teas, two waters, please?” She asked.

“Coming right up,” he nodded and sauntered to the next car.

Closing the door, she turned back to her car mate and then sat beside her purse. She pulled out a smaller bag and dug briefly before retrieving the aspirin bottle. Shaking out two tiny pills she placed them in Harry’s hand and closed them into his fist. She dug more into her bag and found an unopened water bottle. “A-ha!” She murmured to herself. Handing it to Harry she sat beside him now. He sniffed. She pressed her lips together as she looked him over. His hair was in disarray. His poor eyes were Christmas colored. His green irises brighter than the most beautiful emeralds surrounded by the deepest ruby red she’d ever seen. He swallowed the two pills and then his shoulders shook as the remaining cries shook his core.

His lower lip trembled. She gently reached out to his arm and couldn’t stop herself from trying to comfort. She tested the waters carefully, soothingly touching his arm and stroking a small circle into the top of his shoulder. He leaned into it, his tears spilling over again as a strangle cry left his lips and he all but fell into her lap. Her heart broke for him. She didn’t say anything. Just let him cry as she carded her fingers through his hair.

Get. It. Together. He heaved a huge breath, his whole body shaking. He stifled his cries. Just for a minute. This would be a matter of will more than anything. He slowly lifted himself from this poor stranger’s lap and he noted it looked like she fucking wet her pants because he sobbed into her jeans for so long. “Jesus,” he murmured rubbing his eyes. “M’sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said, and it really did sound like she meant it. He shook his head and he reached for his bag and pulled out a pair of sweatpants. They were her favorites.

“These are comfy,” he mumbled and tossed them to her. There was a knock at the door.

“That’s probably the drinks,” she said.

He pulled the door out of the way. No fans lingered. He’d have to learn about the teacher voice she used earlier. “Thank you,” he said.

He handed her a cup of tea, the pants she held folded on her lap. “M’sorry. M’sure you didn’t want someone sniveling all over you on your nice train ride.”

“It’s really okay,” she shrugged sipping her tea. “I’ve cried on this train too,” she admitted.

He would come back to that when he was able to breathe regularly. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For...” he sighed and wiped his eyes again. “Getting rid of everyone, the tissues, the medicine...the crying.”

“Really, it’s okay,” she promised. They sat silently for a while, and she stared out the window watching the rolling landscape fly by.

“Do you have a phone I could use?” Harry asked. She pulled hers from her bag and unlocked it for him. He texted his mum. I’m okay. Xx I need some time. Love. “Thank you again.” He thought of his own phone, drifting through the city pipes. Harry paced a few steps as he sipped his tea. The tears filled his vision again, but it was getting easier. He wouldn’t sob again...probably. “I...” he started and glanced at the lovely girl who’s had to deal with so much thus far on what should have been a... pretty lonely train ride, he realizes. “I hadn’t thought if she’d say no,” he mumbled. She nodded gently listening. She didn’t want to say anything. Harry was certain she must think he’s crazy—a lunatic. He sat beside her. “She...” His heart broke again, and his stomach churned. “She was the love of my life.”

She’s listening so closely, a friendly ear. A total stranger. Harry Styles just sobbed and snotted all over her. But she’s just there, quietly, not judgmentally listening. Her fingers tap at the warm teacup and she lets the warmth of the steam envelope her face as she looks over Harry. “You will be okay,” she says simply.

He nods but the tears fall. “I ‘spose,” he whispers. “But...”

“Listen, I know you don’t know me well, but I don’t think we have just one love,” she said softly she places her tea into the cupholder beside her seat. “I hope we don’t. Because if we do then mine died way too young. Where does that leave me? It’s not fair and it’s not right. I don’t believe it,” she shook her head and stared out the window. Harry sobered for just a moment.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

Immediately, she looked displeased with herself. “Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry...I...no, you...your pain is valid, and I was just—”

“No,” he interrupted. “It’s...s’what I need t’hear,” he nodded. “I appreciate it.”

She relaxed a little, grateful she didn’t offend Harry. “We got engaged,” she hedges quietly eyeing Harry to see if he can handle it. “And... well, riding this train is what you do, you know? So that’s what we did,” she smiles at the memory as she closes her eyes and sighs so deeply. The pain is still fresh, Harry can see it. He knows it. He’s felt it firsthand. “Then,” she shrugs and doesn’t say anything for a few moments. “Every year since...I’ve been stuck watching couples who are so lovely beyond words and all I can think about is how I don’t get that. So, I just want to...have to believe that was not it for me,” she says. “Don’t get me wrong, it hurts, and it sucks and every other horrible emotion,” she says looking out the window again. “But it can’t be the only one.”

Harry nods and looks out the window for a time. “I hope you’re right.”

She smiles. “I pride myself on being right 97 percent of the time.” Harry smirks. He doesn’t know how because he was so sure that he would never smile ever again.

“Jus’ 97 percent?”

“Well, no one is right 100 percent of the time.”

Somehow Harry found himself laughing.

Maybe she was right. Maybe he would heal.

I never was ready, so I watch you go / Sometimes you just don't know the answer / 'Til someone's on their knees and asks you / "She would've made such a lovely bride / What a shame she's fucked in the head," they said / But you'll find the real thing instead / She'll patch up your tapestry that I shred

Harry felt as if the year since he met her had flown so quickly. The incident wore off a little more every day since the day it happened. His new friend and he rode the train into the countryside. The trip felt short after that first few hours of crying.

“Thank you for everything,” he said as the train arrived at their final station.

“Anytime, Harry,” she said softly. She gave his arm a squeeze as she started for the door. He reached for her arm quickly.

“Erm...could I...have your number, to call you if I feel—” he trailed off.

“Of course!” She said and she dropped all her bags readily and reached for her purse. Out came a business card. It was decorated with flowers and had her name and number written in silver on the black background. He examined it for a moment and then slid it into his front pocket.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Harry.” She paused and looked at her feet, scuffed her toe on the floor. “Look, I know that it’s still raw, and...look, she’s fucked if she didn’t want to marry you, that’s it,” she shrugged.

It hurt to hear but it sounded so good. Harry felt tears burn in his eyes, but he couldn’t help but laugh. There was nothing else he could say. He certainly couldn’t argue.

Now she was there, arranging a room for her to have of her own. Harry’s invitation to be part of his life. Since Harry would be traveling, she didn’t want to move in completely. “I’ll be pretty lonely,” she shrugged. “It’s...not about not wanting you. I’ll be here the moment you arrive to the moment you leave. Is that okay?” She wondered.

He nodded. She could do whatever she wanted. He’s pretty sure if she said no to a proposal, he’d still adore her. Maybe that’s why she was different than the last time. But really, he knew it was so much more than that. She was so much more than that.

Every night no matter what he was doing and where he was, he sent her a voicemail saying he adored her and thanked her for being his. He was way over his head. He believed in what she said now. There couldn’t be one love of his life because it certainly was her. She was an angel. She adored his friends and family and they were in love with her too.

“I love this one,” his mum whispered to Harry as she helped carry dishes into the kitchen one evening. She was humming some tune as she washed the dishes in the sink ushering Anne away since she was the one that made the yummy food. Harry smiled gently and reminisced about that awful train ride that now seemed like a blessing. He didn’t think about one of the worst moments in his life. He thought about that teacher voice that yelled at strangers and the way his sweatpants looked on her after he cried all over her jeans.

When he was home, she was there. They watched movies, played board games, they went to dinner, and watched the clouds change shape in the park. When she worked, he was so distraught without her, he waited for her at the door like a puppy. She always came in smiling even when she had a hard day. He would cup her face and kiss her like he was never going to kiss her again. “You spoil me, Har-bear,” she joked as a pink blush painted her cheeks.

They sometimes wouldn’t do anything. Just lay on the couch, her ear pressed to his heart and their breathing would sync. His fingers tangled into her hair, and he felt so utterly at home like this it was the best feeling. He can’t remember life before her. He didn’t want to. He just wanted her for the rest of his days.

He never pressed, but when she spoke about her last fiancé it was always a bit of sadness mixed with the happiness. It was usually around important dates. “I don’t want t’replace him,” Harry assured her.

“I don’t think you could. But that’s okay,” she smiled gently and reached out to rub Harry’s cheek with her thumb. “I like you as you are.”

“Just like?” He asked.

“Just like,” she giggled and winked.

Harry could feel it in his soul that she was the only thing he needed. It was as easy as breathing. But it also terrified him. He was plagued by what ifs and bad memories. He didn’t know what to do about it. Harry knew she was different than last time but there was no way of knowing...you never know apparently. That’s what Harry had learned.

All that worry dissipated the moment her gaze met his. It was like magic. He would do it. No, he wouldn’t. He could! He couldn’t. It was antagonizing to have this many mixed emotions pulling him in either direction. He would wait. He’d do it tomorrow. He couldn’t ask. He had to ask.

Whatever he decided, he wanted it to be perfect, he knew that much. He wouldn’t let it end like last time.

And hold your hand while dancing / Never leave you standing / Crestfallen on the landing / With champagne problems / Your mom's ring in your pocket / Her picture in your wallet / You won't remember all my / Champagne problems

It was later. Not days later but not years and years later either. To him, it was exactly the right time. He hoped she would feel the same way.

She was typing at her desk in her office—her home away from home in Harry’s house. She faced the view of her heart’s desires. Harry made sure of it. The beautiful sunset that shone into the room every day. Her favorite part of the day. “It just means as bad as the day was, it can’t get any worse. It’s over,” she said. It sounded sad, but she said it so sweetly he couldn’t argue with her.

“You gonna come in or just stare at me?” She said without looking over her shoulder.

He entered and sat on the small loveseat on the other side of the room. Facing the sunset still. He was fidgeting furiously, knee bouncing, heart racing, he bit at the skin around his thumb. She turned from her laptop and turned to look at him. “No biting,” she chided. “What’s the matter, Har-bear?” She asked with gentle eyes and a beautiful smile. “You’ve been so off lately. Are you gonna tell me or what?” She tilted her head at him.

Of course, she knew. He couldn’t hide anything from her. Except this. She was somehow completely oblivious to this. He swallowed the lump in his throat. She’s different. You can’t think about it like this. He felt his stomach churn.

“Hey,” she whispered suddenly coming over quickly to him. She knelt in front of him and pushed herself between his long legs and peered up to his eyes under some floppy brown curls that dangled in front of his face. She pulled his hands into hers. Stroking the back of his hand with her thumb, she placed a kiss to his knuckles. “Hey,” she repeated when he was still bouncing. “It’s okay,” she breathed so easily and soothed him so readily. “It’s just me.”

Yeah, but you’re everything.

“I have to tell you something,” he blurted. She blinked at him. He felt her hands stiffen just a little. “It’s nothing bad.” He said eventually. Her hands relaxed instantly.

“Okay,” she said soothingly, again. Her thumb stroking his skin. He felt so at ease in this room. She worked so diligently. Quietly, softly, lovely. All the things he adored about her. The room was a soft champagne color. Not overwhelming—just a light, bubbly reminder that it would be okay as long as she was there. Is this color, okay? She asked. She could have painted it black. Harry would have yielded. Whatever her heart wanted he wanted to give her. Pictures she had painted with friends in college, at work, with old friends, with Harry, with new friends, lined the walls. All enveloping Harry in the most comfortable atmosphere. The room was entirely her. A hug and a kiss. He slept in here when he missed her most while she was back home. “Tell me what you’re feeling,” she said cupping the side of his face and rubbing her thumb over his cheek. Somehow it was a command even though she would never force him to say anything if he didn’t want to.

“M’scared,” he started. She nodded, waiting for more. There didn’t need to be more, but she waited. Swallowing, he reached a hand to cup her cheek in his palm. She smiled softly, her cheek filling his hand. She turned to his palm and kissed it. “I’m...” he began and exhaled methodically. “M’desperately in love with you,” he said.

Her cheek warmed in his palm. She glanced down at her other hand in his and she nodded. “I’m pretty crazy about you too,” she said.

“No,” he shook his head. “I think I would die if it wasn’t for you.”

“I don’t think that’s true, but I would die without you too,” she said sweetly.

He took a deep breath. “The...the last time I felt this way...” he paused then looked into her eyes. She was frozen. She knows. She nodded slowly just once. “I really want to ask you something,” he said, and his voice cracked a little bit. “But I’m so scared,” the words were barely a whisper. Tears brimmed at the bottom of those beautiful green eyes.

She squeezed his hand. “Harry,” she said so softly. “You don’t have to be scared. Not with me.”

“You deserve a huge, beautiful, big to do...but I can’t,” his voice broke on every other word.

“No, no, I don’t need that...you are...you are all I could ask for and more,” she promised.

He dragged his hand over his face and wiped the tears away. “You must think I’m an idiot.”

“Not for this,” she said lightly and caught a tear that he missed.

“Right here?” He wondered.

“It could be,” she nodded.

“You really don’t mind?”

“Not even a little.”

Harry pulled her to her feet with him, nearly pulling them both down into a heap. She braced herself with a smirk and steadied him. He sniffed and stuffed his hand into his pocket pulling out a velvet box and clicking it open as he knelt before her.

“Kitten, I lo—”

“Yes,” she blurted.

He snickered as she giggled and waved her hands in front of her eyes as tears blurred her vision. This would be easier. So much easier. He breathed out a huge breath that he doesn’t know how long he’d been holding. She’s gonna say yes. “Kitten,” he restarted. “I love you more than I need to breathe. You are my entire world and beyond. On the days I need you most, you’re all I see and all I can ask for. You are the best thing to ever happen to me. I want to give you everything you deserve and then some. You’re my best friend.”

“Can you please ask?” She said her breath catching as she cried.

Harry chuckled and slid the ring onto her third finger. “Will you marry me?” He asked quietly.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Yes, absolutely, obviously, you silly goose.” She said and pulled him to his feet and then stood on her tip toes to kiss him.

He wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her tight. “Did you know?” He said pulling back and kissing her forehead.

“Not even a little.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“For what?” She wondered.

“I really...I don’t have a party or a speech or...”

“Harry, I just need you.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re all the champagne and confetti I could ever want,” she said stroking her thumbs over his cheeks and kissing him again. He liked the sound of that.

You won't remember all my /Champagne problems

#one direction #one direction preferences #one direction imagine #one direction blurbs #1direction #1d imagines #1d blurbs #harry styles #harry #styles #harry styles imagine #champagne problems

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